


Please, Please, Please

by MissGillette



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Billy Hargrove, Alpha Jonathan Byers, Alpha Tommy Hagan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Bottom Steve Harrington, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Steve Harrington, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom, Pre-Relationship, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGillette/pseuds/MissGillette
Summary: About once a month or so, Steve plays host to alphas bare-knuckle brawling to claim him during their rut. Steve just wishes Billy would win him for once.Chapter 1: StonathanChapter 2: StommyChapters 3/4: Harringrove
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington
Comments: 57
Kudos: 344





	1. Jonathan "Berserker" Byers

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Smith's "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want."
> 
> Welcome folks, a tweet inspired this fic. I certainly wish I could remember who tweeted it or a link to source. But it amounted to an ABO setting where omegas watch alphas literally fight to win them. I wanted to write Billy as a fuckin loser. And I also wanted everyone to fuck Steve so. The "power bottom" tag is for Steve, btw. The dirty talk tag? ALSO for Steve. I wanted to tag for Steve's breeding kink, but it's not a focus of the story. But he's super into it. YEA. It's gonna be one of _those_ fics. Fuckin buckle up. Nothing that happens in this fic is what you're expecting. Promise.
> 
> [@missraygillette](https://twitter.com/missraygillette) I tweet about things I'm working on. Come love these stupid boys with me. I'll be dropping some """darker""" content for this ship in the near future, if you're into that.

The scrap carrying on in the dirt of the Byers’ front yard won’t last much longer. Not with Jonathan pent up like he always is, prybar of his rut lifting the lid on some hidden aggression every time. He’s more vicious than Billy. Faster too, quick to circle the other panting alpha and then charge to slam against all that muscle. Grappling and snapping jaws in each others’ faces. Spit flying and teeth always a hair’s width away from connecting. It… certainly gets the blood rushing for the intended audience. 

Standing beside Dustin with his arms crossed over his chest, Steve can’t help the sympathetic shake of his head as Jonathan knocks himself and Billy to the ground. Again. Billy really had no clue what he was getting into today. Somehow, for the past two years, Billy and Jonathan avoided intersecting their ruts. The planets aligned or the cycle of the moon was just right to bring them together this evening. He showed up here all swagger and bravado like always. Thinking this was it. That Jonathan would be the loser. Billy’s first win. Well…

“Holy shit,” Dustin wheezes for what must be the hundredth time in a few minutes. “Is Jonathan gonna kill him?”

Steve shoots him a withered look. 

“You don’t have to sound so excited about that, you know. And no. Jonathan isn’t gonna kill Billy. I’ll stop the fight in a second, it’s just—”

“Fun as hell to watch?”

Dustin gets it. He’s just on the cusp of presenting, will probably turn out as an omega if Steve’s suspicions are right. Dustin wants to watch every fight for Steve. And so for the past year, Dustin has been like a conjoined twin. Watching Billy get his ass handed to him again and again. And yet? The Californian alpha… still shows up. Steve can’t figure it out. Billy loiters at Family Video a lot. Shows up to pool parties Steve throws—especially after Steve started inviting him point blank. Billy may be the one who sneaks chocolate and other treasures to Steve at Family Video. He keeps finding them after Max drags Billy away from the counter. Leaning all suave and cool despite all of those charms pinging off Steve like hail on a car. Sometimes, though, Billy leaves a dent. A scratch. Like right now as Steve’s heart sort of sinks. 

The alphas haven’t climbed up from the ground this time. It’s over once Billy’s strength starts to flag. Fights don’t carry on and on like they do in movies and shit. This one is hitting the two-minute mark. An eternity for anyone going against a berserker like Jonathan. Billy is flat on his back with his hands tight at Jonathan’s wrists. He’s sort of helpless to the other alpha straddling him, lifting his upper body by the collar of his shirt, and then slamming Billy into the ground. Again. And again. And yet again. 

The first time Jonathan had showed up when Steve was a junior, he certainly didn’t expect Jonathan to win. Let alone fucking trounce the other two alphas. Even when they teamed up against Jonathan, doing him dirty, Jonathan still won. If only Steve’s insides did that funny thing for Jonathan what they do for Billy—when Billy looks at him or calls him pretty boy. When Billy is just near him, really. Steve thinks it means something. But he’s afraid to lift the log on the unknown, afraid of the scrambling creature hiding in moss and wood rot. Afraid he knows its name and that maybe Billy doesn’t want him the same way. So he leaves it. 

Sighing as he watches Billy’s fingers go slack on Jonathan’s skin, about to pass out from all the smacking around, Steve claps his hands. 

“Okay, break it up,” he drawls. “Fight’s over.” He turns to Dustin and nods his head towards the road. “You’d better get home. Tell your mom I said hey.”

Dustin dutifully nods and heads for his bike, giving the alphas breathing hard in the dirt a wide berth. He’ll need to climb on his bike and pedal through Mirkwood back to his house. Steve won’t be able to drive him. Won’t be able to do much of anything after he declares Jonathan the winner, sends the alpha back inside the house, and then offers the loser a consolation. He’s used to it with Billy. Maybe one day Steve will whip his shirt off like he does now and hand it to Billy to distract him from the fight. That’s not how it’ll be right now as Steve approaches, letting the sweetness of himself pet over Jonathan’s messy hair. 

Sort of squatting down with his spotted back bare to the sunset, Steve trills softly in Jonathan’s ear. That cuts through Jonathan’s aggression like someone takes scissors to the thread and snips it clean. His face is always strangely dopey and fond when Steve pulls him away by his jaw, offers his throat to the alpha before pushing his shirt into Jonathan’s hands. Jonathan doesn’t linger, knows he’s won. He sticks around long enough to meet Steve’s eyes, amber on black-brown, and then he’s gone. Steve holds still until the Byers’ front door swings open and shut. He’ll follow Jonathan into bed in a moment. There’s the matter of Billy to contend with. 

“Hey,” Steve says softly. Billy hasn’t moved yet, still lies flat on his back with his clothes and hair all dusty. Dirty. Face still caught in a grimace from the pain of Jonathan slamming him into the earth. “Are you okay?”

A humorless smile tugs for just a second on boyish lips. Billy doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Yea, pretty boy, I’m fine,” he sighs with his voice all gravelly like he’s just woken up. Another sigh fills his chest, golden skin peeking between the open buttons of his shirt. Always on display. “Don’t worry about me.”

Lips pursed, Steve gives a hesitant nod. 

“I’d uh help you stand up but I’m not allowed to touch you, so…”

“Yea,” Billy scoffs, either not hiding his disappointment or maybe he’s unaware of how blatant it is. Steve winces. “I get it. Wouldn’t want Humpty Dumpty coming back out here and cracking my fucking head open like an egg. That’d be a shame, a real damn shame.”

Steve presses a smile flat between his lips and asks, amused, “So Jonathan is Humpty Dumpty, but somehow you’re the egg? How does that make any sense?”

Finally, a blue eye peers open to stare at him. 

“I have a concussion, work with me, Harrington.”

‘Working’ with Billy turns out to be another snort and a bubble or two of laughter. Nothing loud, nothing Steve needs to hold his stomach over. It’s enough to coax the other sapphire open, and then Billy curls to sit on his ass with only a grunt. Steve, always a helpful fool, forgets himself and reaches out to steady Billy. But the alpha’s upper lip twitches in a snarl, stay away you dummy, and Steve flinches back. Oh right. 

“My bad,” Steve says with an uncomfortable smile. “I don’t know why I always forget I can’t touch the other alpha when it’s you.”

That’s a white lie right there. Steve knows exactly why he forgets only with Billy. He suspects—only after holding counsel with Robin over the ‘Billy Situation’ as he’s dubbed it—that Billy is trying to court him. Albeit poorly, since Billy seems to stumble along with this status shit just like Steve does. Steve only has a handle on these alpha fights and actually fucking the winner. Because the competing alphas could actually hurt each other. The only thing that breaks up a fight is the omega they’re fighting over declaring a victor. Then a switch flips in their rut-addled brains, and they break it up like nothing had happened.

It’d shocked Steve the first time. In the locker room sophomore year after tryouts. When he brushed a hand over Tommy’s shoulder to get him to stop snarling in Brad Hickley’s face, both of them on the ground. And then Tommy ended up fucking him in a classroom they broke into, Steve spread out on a teacher’s desk while Tommy railed him six-ways to next Sunday…

Swallowing hard and hoping Billy can’t smell him, Steve rises back to his feet. He shuffles away, almost offers his hand again, and then takes an actual step back. The way Billy shows up to every brawl over him. Even when Billy isn’t in rut he occasionally shows up. And all the simmering flirting they do… No, Steve has been sure for months now that Billy is courting him. Not in the usual way with chaperones and careful steps, tokens of affection and all that shit. Nope, they’re doing it the Billy way, he guesses. And as Billy stands, dusting himself off and cupping the back of his head with a wince, Steve thinks he likes the Billy way. If only the alpha would win one of these damn scraps.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

Steve wishes things didn’t have to be so complicated. So tangled up. He’s always softest in his heart when he has to send Billy away and go lie with someone else. Someone who isn’t Billy. Not that Jonathan—who wins every fight he’s a part of—isn’t a generous, affectionate lover. Jonathan always holds him close, never leaves him alone, and makes sure Steve gets it good. He’s never unsatisfied when he’s with Jonathan. Jonathan just isn’t who he wants. 

“Will you um… I don’t know, will you let Max know when you get home? That you’re okay? I can radio her when I get home, and she can let me know, you know?”

Standing perpendicular to Steve, Billy twists a little at his waist to meet Steve’s eyes in the fading light. Summer is a month away. The community pool will be open soon, and Billy will be restored to his throne. Right now, he’s the front desk guy of the body shop on Main Street. He’s apprenticing after hours under one of the mechanics or something. For now, he answers phones and draws in all the housewives for oil changes and tire rotations. And business is booming. Steve has yet to be the forward one and visit Billy at work. Maybe he should change that—if only to cheer the alpha up. 

“Anyway, uh…” Steve kicks his foot through dirt and gravel. He feels stupid standing here shirtless and keeping Jonathan waiting. Much longer and the alpha will return, start the fight all over again. It’s almost happened before. He just can’t stand to say goodbye to Billy when they’re at such a low after another loss. “Um, are you working tomorrow? Maybe I can, I don’t know, like… drop by? On my break or something?”

It must be the right thing to say. Despite his defeat, yet again by the most outcast alpha in town, Billy perks up. Steve doubts anyone but him and Max could read Billy well enough to pick it out. How he stands just a little taller, puffs his chest out, stares that much harder at Steve’s eyes that refuse to meet his. 

“We close the shop for an hour between noon and one.”

It’s all Billy offers him, but it means everything. Steve nods, licks his lips, and starts shuffling towards the house. 

“Uh, cool man, real cool, I’ll uh see you tomorrow then.”

Steve gets to the porch, screen door already flicked open and front door knob in his hand, when Billy’s voice drifts through the twilight, “It’s a date.”

When Steve’s brain connects the voice to the words to the intent, he whips around to stare at Billy’s retreating back. The alpha is already at his car, swinging down into the seat without another word to Steve. Billy only glances up through the windshield as the Camaro turns over and roars to life. Their eyes hold, Steve not breathing, and then Billy winks at him. He’s gone in a cloud of exhaust, noise, and dust. Steve lingers on the porch until the night quiets again. ‘It’s a date,’ rings in his ears and carries him lighter than air through the Byers’ house and right to Jonathan’s bedroom. 

The thin bedroom door rips open the moment Steve steps in front of it. This is the only time Jonathan is rough with him. It’s because of all the lingering scents sticking to him. Of work today and Dustin and distantly Billy. The initial growling and shoving doesn’t surprise Steve at all. They all do it, only Jonathan is the one to back Steve into the bed and shove him. It’s exhilarating and gets his heart pumping like he’s run an obstacle course. Steve laughs as he bounces once, twice on Jonathan’s bed. He doesn’t struggle as the alpha looms over him. Long fingers tug at his belt like it’s something to fight. 

Steve doesn’t help with this part, never does. They like undressing him. Something about stripping Steve of clothes soaked in scents other than theirs. They need skin and heat, and Steve’s clothes are in the way. At least Jonathan hasn’t torn anything off him recently—not that it isn’t hot as fuck and gets him wetter than he likes to admit. Flat on his back and smiling up at Jonathan, it makes Steve wonder what sort of rutter Billy is. If he’s all soft at the edges and slow, careful. Or if he’s a little unhinged like Jonathan and maybe bites too hard, leaves bruises and marks. They all leave some sort of marks, but Jonathan bites for blood when he’s like this. And Steve wants to feel Billy’s teeth in him. 

“Mmm Jonathan,” Steve sighs with his voice sort of purring over the alpha’s name. “Fuck, I need this. The last alpha who won me was Robin’s uncle from out of town, and he sucked.” Steve reaches for Jonathan hovering above him and trills softly when the alpha leans his cheek into the caress. “He couldn’t fuck me like you can, didn’t even catch on his knot.”

Jonathan’s upper lip twitches back, and he turns to hide his possessive growl in Steve’s palm. It’s so strange to Steve, because out of a rut, Jonathan is just as shy and sort of withdrawn like always. They’re tentative friends now that they’re not in high school anymore. But they’re not buddies or anything. When they’re alone like this, though, something buried deep comes out of Jonathan and turns the limestone of his uncertainty to marble. Steve never would have figured Jonathan to be an aggressive rutter just from knowing him and looking at him. It takes all kinds, and Steve still doesn’t mind years after the fact. Especially not when Jonathan yanks his jeans and underwear off in one brisk tug.

They’re naked together as they should be when Jonathan manhandles Steve up the bed to the pillows. Steve usually starts on his back as Jonathan snuffs, licks, and bites any scent that isn’t his or Steve’s away. It’s too soon to touch Jonathan back. Steve knows from experience, but he also tests Jonathan’s temper with hands reaching for dishwater hair, nice and slow like. The movement catches brown-black eyes, and Jonathan pauses with fangs dropped just beside a nipple. He doesn’t need to snap those jaws. Doesn’t even need a growl. This is what gets Steve’s skin tight and sensitive over his bones. Jonathan glaring up at him through the tops of his vision. Put your hands down. Don’t challenge me.

Shivering and humming behind his teeth in his lip, Steve does as that wordless command bids him. Steve’s hands end up curled and relaxed above his head as he crosses his wrists. It exposes all of him to Jonathan, even more so when he begins to spread his legs. Jonathan’s upper lip does twitch at that, mistaking the motion for rebellion. Steve would never, not truly. Not beyond some cheekiness just to rile up the alpha he’s fucking at the time. Ah, but that just sours him some. He’d like to narrow it down to one alpha. A specific one. Steve looks away from Jonathan despite the heat in his dark eyes. 

Not for long, though. A rough whine, like Jonathan is in pain, snaps pretty amber right back to him. Oh. His sadness must cut through the thick fog of desire churning between them. Jonathan is such a sensitive person. He makes for a sensitive rutter, too. Ready to adapt almost the exact instant an omega under him is anything other than enthralled. Slow down, be gentler, hold them closer. Steve gives him a tiny trill back when Jonathan lies down on top of him and tucks his face to the omega’s neck. Never to mark here. Jonathan doesn’t even leave lovebites on his neck. But he does nuzzle and kiss until Steve is boneless under him and content with such intimate attention.

“Nn... Jonathan,” he breathes fluttering and light in his throat. “I-I’m okay, man, you can keep going. You’re mmm… gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

Not quite, but it encourages a growl out of the alpha. Spurring Jonathan to pick up where he’d left off. The alpha’s dense weight shifts down so thin lips can mouth at pretty nipples. It doesn’t take much to get Steve’s back arching and breathy moans pouring out of him. His hands shake above his head, so close to betraying him. Somehow he remembers to keep his hands away. Jonathan hadn’t been the one to cross his wrists, but the position sends a shiver down Steve’s spine until all that energy tingles between his legs. He’s already wet and Jonathan has only played with his chest.

“Hnn f-fuck, Jonathan,” he whines with his head tipped back, exposing his throat even though Jonathan won’t take it. “Jesus, I missed you. Please keep going, need you, need you so bad, alpha.”

Ah, it works like a charm on all of them. Put a little honey in his voice, whimper at the middle of ‘alpha,’ and they’re putty in his hands. A shiver of excitement rushes through Steve to think Billy would be just as tamed. The wolfish man turned to a lap dog eager to please. Whereas Jonathan never truly unwinds from his prowling nature when he’s in rut. He just struggles with himself, like now. Jonathan strains to not whine, grits his teeth over the sound. Steve knows just how to make the word powerful in its sweetness. Jaw surely aching, Jonathan draws biting kisses down the midline of Steve’s pliant body. And then it’s groomed, coarse hair from Steve’s navel down. Not shaved, not by a long shot, but short. Perfect for licking, which Jonathan does even while Steve hardens along his jaw.

Smile in his voice as he arches into Jonathan’s tongue, Steve laughs, “You’re so gross, man, come on.”

Jonathan buries a moan in the crease where Steve’s thigh meets his hip. The vibrations from Jonathan’s voice dragging on and on zap straight to his dick. More like a punch than a burn, what with Jonathan being so close to where Steve wants him. It won’t be for long. Jonathan doesn’t linger anywhere for too long on his quest to have Steve squirming and wet enough for his knot. And with Steve reluctantly celibate between alphas fighting for him, the omega is wound plenty tight. It won’t take much to make him gush. When he wiggles as Jonathan breathes on his blushing head, Steve is sure wetness makes a mess under him. It’ll stain Jonathan’s sheets with slick but also his scent. It’ll keep Jonathan company when Steve leaves in an hour or so. 

Thin lips mouth kisses over his head and the sensitive glans there. Steve’s hips pop up just once. He only ever gets one in with a rutting alpha on top of him. They all frown or huff—or growl if it’s Jonathan—for him to stay still and take what he gets. So he moans all pretty and light in his throat when Jonathan pins him down with both hands on his hips. It stings, that pressure, but it only pours more heat behind his navel. Makes him buzz where Jonathan pops the head of his dick just past his lips. Even with Jonathan’s strength pinning him, Steve still wiggles and tries to thrust into his mouth. Suction around him, hollowed cheeks, only makes him more frantic.

“Fu-fuck Jonathan, please, Jesus Christ,” Steve hisses. His face flushes with what he’s about to say, but he knows how to egg these alphas on. He has needs, too. “Don’t tease me, come on, you know how mmm how wet I am for you. H-hurry, Jonathan, fuck I need you.”

Steve slams his head into the lumpy pillow under him when Jonathan sinks all the way down. He could explode from the way Jonathan bobs his head, rocking the head of Steve’s dick down his throat between breaths. Steve’s nails bite in his palms as he fights the urge to throw his hands down to Jonathan’s thin hair and pull on strands until it hurts.

“Oh god, oh god, Jonathan please! Fucking please, need you so bad, need your knot, no—oh god—nobody fucks me like you do.” Panting and red to his hairline, ears bright pink, Steve groans, “Lock me on your knot and make me yours, breed me so good, alpha!”

The words rush embarrassed blood in a roar around his head, blocking his ears to his own whine to be filled and fucked. But he knows his tricks well, and with his wet hole so close to Jonathan already, surely the alpha smells him. It’s all for Jonathan, all because of the things Jonathan does to him. Foreplay is nice, of course, but Steve had walked in here wet and loose enough to fuck. The fights do that to him. The first few times Jonathan had won, the alpha ripped his jeans off to find a wet spot soaked through the seat of Steve’s underwear.

Those had been… especially rough encounters, and Steve uses those vivid memories as inspiration when he’s alone. Usually thinking about a faceless alpha who may or may not have Billy’s hands and filthy grins. There’s no shame, though, because Steve has always known what he wants. And what he wants is power over him. It’s easy enough to pit alphas against him, make betas fall to their knees just for a second of his attention. For a smile. But for someone to shove and push him around, to not bend to his sass or whining… Steve gasps pretty all over again when Jonathan pulls off him in one smooth motion only to bat at his hip like a bear and flip him over. That’s the good stuff; that’s what he wants.

Do whatever you want to me, just do it hard, bend me, break me, hurt me until all I can do is submit to you.

Steve’s eyes roll back in his head when Jonathan wastes no time shuffling up behind him. This isn’t how Jonathan will knot him. It’s too uncomfortable on their knees until they unlock. Jonathan will fuck him face down, ass up long enough to make a mess out of Steve’s hole. Get him squirming and dripping down his thighs, babbling incoherently for a knot, and then maneuver them how he wants. Jaw smashed into the pillow, Steve moans and rocks his body back while Jonathan holds his cheeks open and rubs his cock through the mess already there. Jonathan will be quiet until he comes. Steve doesn’t mind. It gives him ample opportunity to encourage Jonathan to hurry.

“Mmm need you in me,” he slurs, cheek fat where he leans weight on it. “Oh Jonathan, oh god, come on and fuck me, you know I want it.” Steve slides his knees farther apart and tries to angle himself so his rim catches on Jonathan’s blunt head. Works like a charm as Jonathan stops thrusting back and forth and just nudges them together. “Yea, yea, like that, fuck! Just stick it in me already, I’m going crazy!”

He won’t have to resort to pouting and begging all pretty for Jonathan. Robin’s uncle had a fucking power trip the size of Texas and had him posturing like this forever while he rambled on and on. And then the bastard had the audacity to not catch in him. He only won because of cheap tricks. What adult man in his 40s actually inserts himself into an alpha brawl with other alphas in their 20s? It was no contest. Steve still rolls his eyes and groans annoyed at the memories. They’re fresh. Jonathan will hopefully give him a good one and help him forget. Masturbating to a collage of Billy and faceless alphas can only wipe his memory for so long. So when Jonathan shudders behind him, voice breaking through his exhale as he breeches that ready hole, Steve lets loose a moan loud enough to wake the dead.

That first, tight glide inside always drags. Lube would help. Or if Jonathan did what other alphas do and finger him to gather slick to slap it on their cocks. A part of Steve that hoards his shameful fantasies—being overpowered, being held down and fucked whether he wants it or not, taking knot after knot even if they’re strangers—preens at the pain. That Jonathan does this every time. Jonathan forces his way inside despite Steve’s enthusiastic consent. The alpha could pop his knot right now, long before Steve is ready for it, and there’s nothing Steve could do about it. He’d have to take it and squirm on it until they unlock. Eyes fluttering with another moan, Steve almost wishes Jonathan would do that to him. Almost.

It’s the heat of the moment and hormones and his skin coming alive that bring out his fantasies. Would Billy do those things to him? It’s not exactly fair to think about Billy that way—that Billy would force him, smack him around. He’s not the bastard he makes himself out to be. Or at least he’s fucked that angle up with Steve. Steve knows better, knows Billy is lonely but doesn’t have the tools necessary to dig himself out of that pit. Not like Steve had when he fucked things up with Tommy, Carol, and Nancy. His whole support group. He won them back already—okay, maybe not Nancy like they used to be, but whatever, she’s in college and already growing apart from everyone, fuck it—but Billy has no one. Steve sours a little while thinking about it. Even with Jonathan's pelvis flush to his ass, cock heavy inside him.

A shaking hand peels off his hip and pets the dip of his spine up and down. Soothing. Comforting him and loving on him so he sweetens back up. He really needs to stop thinking about Billy with Jonathan balls-deep in him. Actually, he needs to stop thinking about Billy when he’s fucking anyone. It ruins the vibe between him and the other person, distracts every alpha on top of him because they pick up on his sadness. His disappointment that they aren’t who he wants. Letting his lips part to breathe through them, Steve gets his arms under him to push himself up. Jonathan’s nails dig into his back, wanting him down, but Steve rebels. 

Rocking back to pop his ass against Jonathan, Steve tosses a grin over his shoulder and, “Come on, big guy.” He fucks himself on Jonathan’s cock until the alpha’s hand at his hip grips hard enough to hurt. “It’s been too long. Show me what that dick can do.”

They’re the magic words. Jonathan’s right hand tangles in the fluff of Steve’s hair and yanks his head straight back. Throat strung tight enough to choke, Steve struggles to breathe and keep his moans going. But he will. He’ll fight through the scratch in his throat and Jonathan almost choking him just to egg the alpha on. Jonathan picks up a jarring pace that knocks moans out of Steve with every snap of their bodies together. The hot rush of thick flesh in and out of him sends Steve to shake in Jonathan’s hands and arch back for more. Jonathan does him the favor of tightening his fist in soft hair. 

“Jona-than,” he grunts. “F-fuck, harder, harder!”

Jonathan’s grip in his hair does a 180 and shoves him forward and down, back into the pillow. Back to him being face down and ass up. Anything to get what he wants. The springs in Jonathan’s mattress protest their vigor. Even the bed frame gives a warning groan with every rock of them forward as one. It won’t be long, now. With Jonathan’s hips rolling back and forth, gliding him through Steve’s tightness, it won’t be long. If Steve could catch his breath or his wits, he’d lose them all over again at his rim catching on the first swell of knot. He’s not the one feeling the need, but alphas have that way with him. Make him lose his head when the fucking is good so he can just let go. And it’s only going to get better. He’s barely face down in the bed for a minute, he swears, before Jonathan sends his world spinning again.

They stumble a little, Jonathan trying to stay in him when the alpha flips them around. But he can’t manage it, slips out with a pained noise like earlier. Steve’s whine is full of neediness and a pout. Jonathan doesn’t give him time to throw that pout over his slim shoulder, though. The alpha is on his back, head pointed at the foot of the bed. He yanks Steve and all those long limbs into his lap with Steve facing away from him. It’s up to Steve to slip his hands under him to line Jonathan up with his loose hole and hold him steady for the first few inches while he sits. Jonathan likes it this way for some reason. Steve doesn’t mind, uses Jonathan’s thighs to brace himself and control how fast he fucks himself on the alpha’s knot. It’s almost full. He’ll bully all of Jonathan into him, grind himself on that thickness, and come at least once. Twice if Jonathan helps.

Big hands not quite as rough as Billy’s, but close, cover the bruises that will form on Steve’s hips tomorrow. He’ll have to be gentle with dressing and moving about. If Robin or Keith see him wince at work tomorrow, they’ll never let him hear the end of it. They probably won’t hear about the fight, so they won’t know about Jonathan fucking him. Well, Dustin had been here for the scrap. So if he goes blabbing his mouth…

Jonathan has the reach to paw for Steve’s erection from behind and draw his fist tight and fast over it. That alone knocks Steve’s worries out of his head, has him arching his chest out. He can almost bounce himself between the two points of contact—Jonathan’s fingers tight around him and the alpha’s knot swelling to fullness just inside him. Moans tumbling from his open mouth, Steve does just that. He grinds himself into Jonathan’s lap and then swirls his hips forward for friction in his palm. All the while Jonathan’s other hand just keeps a firm, steadying hold of Steve’s hip. If Steve gets too wild with bouncing on his knot, he may topple them over. It’s happened before, Steve’s grace rather mercurial. 

Head flopping back, Steve knows he needs more though. He could do it himself, glide a hand up speckled skin and sweat to play with his nipples. He’s too sensitive to the alphas rutting around him. It’s not enough to trigger a false heat, but his body certainly tries. Jonathan has licked and kissed and sucked rosy-brown peaks before, and now they’re puffy. Sore. Steve grunts as Jonathan pops his hips under him. Much better than Robin’s dumb uncle. Plus, he fancied saying Steve had tits while he pinched them, and Steve isn’t sure how he feels about that. Bless Jonathan’s silence. 

Steve leaves a hand on Jonathan’s thigh as he spreads his knees wider where he straddles the alpha. More stable, more secure, he’s confident they don’t need Jonathan at his hip to keep them together. He won’t go too knot crazy. Steve’s left hand trembles when it reaches with great hesitation for Jonathan. The alpha hums, confused, behind Steve when Steve scoops up his boyish fingers. Longer than Billy’s but just as square. Sort of ugly. Steve doesn’t care and just covers the long bones in the back of Jonathan’s palm and guides them up his chest. Jonathan’s fingers go tripping over a nipple, and Steve shudders on top of him. This is what he wants, and he releases Jonathan when the alpha takes over. 

“Jesus Jonathan,” he wheezes while he picks up bouncing harder on his knot. “Gonna come, gonna come, harder, fuck come on, harder!”

Jonathan digs the nail of his index finger into a hard nub. It stings in all the ways Steve needs it to, sends a tingling zap to his poor cock still rutting in Jonathan’s hand. Those long fingers curl up that much tighter around his flesh, thumb more generous with rubbing at his sensitive glans as he stumbles towards the edge of an orgasm. Jonathan will probably make him come again shortly after, just keep stroking his cock until he’s shaking and babbling. Steve nods his head like they discuss it, agreeing so hard he makes himself dizzy. 

“Make me come, alpha,” he groans with his chin in his chest, staring down at the blushing head of his cock ready to gush. “Make me come, I’m all yours, it’s all for you, wanna mmm wanna make you come in me, do it god, please need it, fuck Jonathan!”

He watches the first spurt bead out of him, and then it’s all explosions and waves of tightness after that. Steve’s wet eyes slam shut as his mouth hangs open in the loudest moan yet. It’s broken and needy—some have said to him after ‘whorish’—but he doesn’t care. His noises stroke the fires of the alpha inside him. Jonathan groans, too, and plants his feet to buck into Steve. His nails are cruel in Steve’s chest where he forces the omega hard onto his knot again and again. Jonathan only stumbles, Steve’s cock spent in his hand, when he starts to come too. 

Steve knows he can’t feel it. Despite all the omega pulp fiction out there and the dirty talk in porn. He knows he can’t feel Jonathan flood him inside. Trying to breed him. It’s a heady thought though, one he entertains privately lest someone find out and tease him about it. Or think he wants a pup and invite themselves to be the alpha to give him one. He’s on birth control for a reason, would rather suffer horrible, painful things than have a kid. Not after the way his parents neglected him. Maybe in the future, but right now hell no. Plus… condoms are so awkward over knots. And it’s harder to catch on them when the alpha wears a condom. That and he can’t exactly fuel his breeding fantasy with a condom so…

“Mmm Jonathan, fuck yea.” Steve smiles and tips his head back, riding the last twitches of Jonathan’s hips. They have about a minute or two before his knot goes down. “I can come again, if you wanna make me. Promise it’ll be good for you.”

A grunt behind him, tired, but Jonathan’s slack hand tightens once more. It won’t take much. He’s always overly sensitive right after an orgasm. It’s something he’d discovered on lonely nights, teasing the cusp of his heat with nothing but his hands and a magazine. Or cheesy porn once he found his dad’s stash. He tries not to think about how, to this day, he still likes the same thing: videos of feisty omegas hissing and resisting until the alpha gets a hand around their necks and forces them to submit. Well, it’s not force. It’s just for the camera—he hopes. But it gets the engine purring, and he always toys with the idea of resisting Billy whenever Billy finally wins. Just to see what Billy will do to him. If Billy will snarl in his face, back him into a corner, and maybe wrestle him to his knees before grabbing him by the hair and rubbing his nose in the exact thing he wants. 

Steve bites back the sounds and shapes of Billy’s name when he comes again. Spring coiled tightly in his belly, it snaps and breaks with each seize of muscle below his navel, forcing a few more dribbles of come over Jonathan’s knuckles. Not nearly as much as the first time, would be less and less until he comes dry if Jonathan were to continue. But two satisfy Steve for now, and Steve gently bats Jonathan away when he’s had enough. His body isn’t quite done milking Jonathan for all he’s worth. Jonathan’s hips below him give a weaker buck than last time. Steve knows it’s good, though, because the muscles in Jonathan’s thighs tense and snap in a familiar sort of way. His quiet whine does it for Steve, too, and he goes about petting those thighs to soothe Jonathan through a second orgasm. It’s over, now.

Jonathan’s hands shake something terrible when they return to Steve’s hips one last time. They need the fading strength of Steve’s thighs to help lift him up. When Jonathan slips out with the wet gush and soreness they’re used to, they groan as one. Jonathan isn’t the type to spread him out, now, and watch the filthy display. No, Jonathan’s aggression vanishes like fog burning on sunlight. He tucks himself under Steve’s chin when he finally gets Steve where he wants. Humming and working feeling back into his calves, Steve holds Jonathan just as tenderly. Jonathan won’t need him for long. Maybe half an hour. Steve won’t leave without shaking him awake. Nothing worse than falling asleep cuddling someone only to wake up alone.

“Mmm just what I needed, man,” Steve chuckles lightly into Jonathan’s thin hair. He cups the back of the alpha’s head and scratches him, pleased with what they’ve done. “You know how to treat us right, Jonathan. Thanks.”

Jonathan can still only manage a grunt. But he laps over the hollows in Steve’s throat to taste his satisfaction. Jonathan will believe that over his words. Words misconstrue. Lie. Steve can’t lie that way, not that he would. Jonathan is important to him in a strange way, almost like pack. It doesn’t help that his sense of pack is all fucked up from his parents and his rocky friendships at the end of high school. Nancy is gone for good most likely, traveling out of state and away from this horrible place for college while the rest of them sort of meander about. Although he suspects Jonathan will be the next to escape. But he still has since clawed Tommy and Carol back into his life. Not to mention Robin, probably his platonic soulmate… Steve doesn’t try to pick a place for Billy in this mess, even if he knows exactly where he wants the alpha in his life. It’s a hodgepodge of a pack, but it’s something. 

So because of that sense of pack and his honor code, he stays with Jonathan. He needs a hot shower and a good night’s sleep on his stomach. But he stays. Breaths puffing over his collarbones turn slow and soft to match Jonathan’s ribs shifting under his skin. Almost asleep. Steve wiggles down enough to brush his lips over Jonathan’s forehead, not quite kissing him. A trill stirs him more, and Jonathan tips his head up to nuzzle Steve right back. Jonathan isn’t nearly so clingy now that his head is mostly clear. As they grow older, his ruts are less intense and don’t require Steve to stay the night. Not to sleep, no, he’d needed Steve in a different way. Multiple times. Some while Steve slept through it—all with permission. Steve should be able to dip out after a little bit of scenting.

“Think you’ll be okay the rest of the night? I’ve got work in the morning, but I can stay if you need me.”

Another breath ghosts over his throat, and then Jonathan shakes his head with a tiny noise.

“So… you’re okay?”

A nod.

“All right, cool. I’ll get outta your hair then. Don’t worry about the front door, I’ve got the spare you gave me, okay? Swing by tomorrow and I’ll sneak you a copy of whatever movie Will has been gaga to see.”

Jonathan’s arm looped over his side squeezes him tightly. Just for a breath. Thank you. And then he hums and sags into the bed. Steve takes care to extract himself, finds his shirt in the mess of things, and then tugs Jonathan’s sheets over him. Jonathan sleeps with his head turned to the side, flat on his stomach, too. Steve’s preferred way, definitely the way he’ll sleep tonight as he sort of limps through the house and leans on the siding when he locks the door. Joyce is with Hopper tonight; Will and Eleven are at the Wheelers’, although Steve suspects Eleven had made the case to stay with Max, too. Sighing and trying not to think of the other Hargrove-Mayfield sibling—and failing—Steve drags his feet to his car. It stings when he sits.

It doesn’t surprise him at all that he takes the long way around town. The way that drives him past Cherry Street and the house with the big, enclosed porch. The dirt lot behind the house must be too full for the Camaro. It’s parked on the street by the mailbox. Steve pulls up behind it, engine idling, and sort of stares at it over the bumps of his knuckles. He shouldn’t linger for long. It’s barely nine, barely completely dark as the sun clings to these waning, spring days. Anybody could drive by and see him. Hell, Billy could look out the window from his weights in the front room and catch him…

What is he doing here? Steve sags into the driver’s seat and immediately regrets it when his ass and hips remind him what he’s just been through. He lingered long enough in the hallway bathroom next to Jonathan’s room to… mop up as best he could. Still, there’s nothing quite like the odd emptiness after taking a knot, and Steve squirms trapped under his seatbelt. Imagining Billy spotting him right now, sauntering up in workout clothes and all sweaty, leaning into Steve’s open window with that grin and a thickly purred, ‘Hey…’

Steve startles behind the wheel and casts wild, animal eyes to the front porch. Oh, he must have imagined movement at the door. Something. He’s still a bit keyed up from all the attention and exposure to Jonathan’s rut. Ah. That’s why he’s out here. Steve tunes into it, now, how when he runs his hands over his arms it tingles like when his nose is full of a rutting alpha. His skin always comes alive and arches up, up, into hands or a mouth, anything. He definitely needs to go home and shower Jonathan off him. It will only get worse with him sitting here… Pinning after another alpha.

Sighing with his head tipped back, Steve grumbles, “Get your shit together,” and then pulls back onto the road. He’s not sure who he means that for.


	2. Tommy "Service" Hagan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the Tommy chapter! The hanky panky here was added as an afterthought! It wasn't originally in the chapter, but then as I was editing it, I knew it really needed some Stommy content. So that's how the scene came to be! Please enjoy it =D Please comment lol
> 
> [@missraygillette](https://twitter.com/missraygillette) I tweet about things I'm working on. Come love these stupid boys with me. I'll be dropping some """darker""" content for this ship in the near future, if you're into that. Also don't follow me if you think such content reflects on the writer. I'd like you to go tell that to Stephen King and George RR Martin lol. Piss off.

Someone other than Billy locks the lobby of the body shop when Steve jogs up. Family Video isn’t that far, and it’s not unbearably hot yet in late May. Still… he worries maybe Billy has already taken off somewhere. Steve only has 30 minutes rather than the luxury afforded Billy. So he loiters like a lost child at the elbow of a gruff mechanic, waiting for narrowed eyes to turn on him.

“Can I do something for you, kid? Shop’s closed until 1.”

Steve’s mouth flaps open and shut a few times before he blurts, “Is, uh, Billy around?”

Bushy eyebrows come together, recognition, and then those watery eyes look him up and down.

“Huh. Didn’t know Billy had an omega…”

He says it more to himself under his moustache than to Steve, but Steve sputters and stumbles over himself to correct the old man. But the mechanic just as quickly turns back to the shop, unlocks the door, and then steps inside. He doesn’t offer Steve to follow him.

“Billy, you in the back room?” He hollers. 

Silence. And then distantly, “Yea?”

The mechanic spares Steve a glance with amusement sparkling in his eyes. Not unlike Santa Claus adverts that are a bit too jolly.

“Didn’t know you had an omega, sport. Why didn’t you tell us?”

Dishes clatter in that same distance of Billy’s voice, and then he tears around the corner, confusion pinching his face. The shop has a sort of dress code, and even though Billy mans the appointment desk and cash register, he too has to abide by it. Navy work pants and long sleeve work shirt with the tails tucked in and buttoned all the way up… Well, Billy rolling the sleeves up to expose his thick forearms is cheating a little. And that top button serves no purpose right now, popped open to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. He’s a sight with his hair up, just that one curl bopping around on his forehead. Steve readily meets blue eyes under that lone curl when they zero in on him. Billy sees him at the same moment and slams to a halt on the linoleum floor like he’s run into a wall.

“Oh uh…” It’s perhaps the lamest Billy has ever sounded, and Steve bites back a snort despite their mutual embarrassment. “He’s not my omega, Pops…”

The old man glances back and forth between them, mutters, “Kids these days,” and then tosses over his shoulder, “Well, he was lookin for you regardless. See you at 1.”

He doesn’t lock the shop door behind him. And Billy is there in a second anyway, only the glass separating them. His fingers twitch towards the lock, and Steve’s heart actually sinks a little. But Billy doesn’t smack the lock closed, just grips the handle and pulls the door open. Stepping out of the way is beyond Billy’s grasp or just not in his head as he stares at Steve without any of his normal bravado or suaveness. He looks so incredibly young, like he should.

“You… actually came.”

It’s not what Steve expects Billy to say, and so he blurts with an almost pout, “I said I would. You’re the one who said, ‘It’s a date!’”

Their eyes meet so briefly, and then they turn and look away as one. Equally embarrassed with having to face the consequences of Billy’s actions. 

Billy breaks the embarrassed silence with a gruff, “Yea, but I didn’t think you took me seriously.”

“Well, I did. Do.” Steve holds himself by the hips. “So we gonna eat lunch together or what?”

Billy eyes him up and down. Especially his empty hands. 

“Did you bring something with you? I didn’t exactly pack a picnic basket…”

That gets a wiry smile out of Steve and a snort. 

“Don’t worry about it, Yogi, I don’t eat on my lunch break anyway. Robin and I usually snack on the expired candy we send back to the supplier. They don’t notice a few bags of gummy worms going missing.”

Billy’s eyebrows come together and his lips part surely in some sort of lecture. Steve beats him to it. 

“And before you start running your mouth about ‘proper diet for an omega’ I’ll have you know it’s none of your—”

“I wasn’t gonna bitch at you about that,” Billy grinds out through his teeth. “It’s your body, Harrington, do whatever the fuck you want.”

Well this isn’t how Steve had wanted this to go. How are they always hissing at each other when Billy isn’t openly flirting and Steve isn’t pink and sputtering with every drawl and flick of eyebrow? Steve lifts his hands, palms facing Billy in appeasement, and they stare each other down. 

“Okay, okay, sorry. I’m just used to people being up my ass about it, okay? I promise I eat fine when I’m not at work. I’ve been taking care of myself a lot longer than most people our age, all right?”

That must satisfy Billy’s righteous—if misplaced—need to defend Steve’s… well-being. Whatever. He sighs through a grumble and then finally makes space for Steve to squeeze past him and into the shop. 

Not before glancing away and mumbling, “Speaking of Byers… How was it?”

Steve barks a laugh with wide eyes and amusement splitting his face. What a stretch! Billy’s nosiness is sort of sweet, though. Ripe for ridicule, but sweet.

“Really? Do you really wanna know?” Long arms cross over his chest as color blooms on Billy’s face and he snarls Steve’s way. “Cuz I’ll tell you, big guy. I’ll give you all the gruesome, dirty details, I’ll give you a blow-by-blow replay.”

Steve’s grin is more of a Billy grin when Billy acts like a real bastard. Steve can’t help himself, is rather proud of that quip. Billy doesn’t appreciate it nearly as much, face twisting into a true scowl with pink climbing up to his ears. They stick out a lot more with his hair pulled up and away. 

“Are you having lunch with me or not?” He growls, tugging on the door.

“Sure. Why not, I said I would.”

Rolling his eyes and still quite pink, Billy smacks the door shut and calls over his retreating shoulder, “Get after it, then. And lock the door behind you. Don’t need any stupid customers coming in when they know damn well we’re closed.”

The later half of that trails off as Billy stomps deeper into the shop, back from whence he’d come. Steve lets his deeply amused grin slide off his face now that Billy isn’t here to eat it up. This is perhaps the first time he’s been alone with Billy without the rush of a party making them brave. Even when the pool parties wind down and Billy is usually one of the stragglers, they still joke around and shoot the shit. A moment to get all soft with each other and just talk never presents itself, always just out of reach. Steve has been hungry to hash out something between them. But they’re stumbling through this not-courting thing Billy’s way. So Steve suspects even now they won’t get into any deep discussion. Steve will take what he can get. 

The back room is a sink and microwave shoved against a wall with a card table and folding chairs around it. Boxes of stock and buckets of dirty rags take up all other space. The earthy scent of engine grease penetrates even this small sanctum. It could be the red rags piled in buckets, but Steve could smell it even in the lobby. He eyes Billy hunched over his lunch and wonders how long before the alpha smells like it too. It suits him somehow. The tang of steel and grease. Blue eyes zip to him like Billy hears Steve thinking about him. 

The alpha jerks his head to the chair at Billy’s right, and he grunts, “Sit.”

Steve just flicks an eyebrow up at him, hands in his pockets. Billy stares him down with a cheek full of food. It would be easy to just spin on his heel and walk right back out. If Billy is going to be a prick about everything. But then again this is typical Billy. And his pride is probably extremely fragile after the loss yesterday.

So Steve is the one to huff, shake his head, and then give in. But not without ladling on some thick sarcasm when he mumbles, “Yes, my alpha, right away.”

Billy snorts and goes right on eating. Steve regards him for a few, silent seconds before his mouth gets the better of him. 

“How’s your head? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Kills and not really.”

“Did you take something for it?”

Lifting his empty fork out of… what looks like casserole leftovers, Billy stabs it in his direction and snaps, “You don’t appreciate comments about eating right, and I don’t need you mommying me.” He flashes Steve a tight smile. “So how about we talk about literally anything else, yea?”

Steve sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. 

“Chill out, man, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about you is all, don’t gotta bite my head off.”

It’s the first time he’s admitted he feels anything for Billy other than annoyance. Billy is like that mean kid on the playground who pushes other kids off the swings, brags about being first for everything, and throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way. The other side to that coin is gruff concern for others that doesn’t come across well. Or that only he’s allowed to pull Steve’s pigtails. No one else. It would be cute if they’d stop dancing around each other.

No matter how close Steve tries to get, Billy’s thorns come out to prick him. Keep him away while Billy stares from his forest of spines and wishes for the closeness Steve willingly offers. Steve sees it every time Billy picks himself up from a fight and stalks away with his tail between his legs. But he just keeps on coming back for more. Billy could have Steve if he wanted to do this the easy way. But it’s always the hard way with Billy. So Steve sighs and relaxes into the folding chair under him. 

“Sorry. Whatever, just forget it. I only have like 15 minutes before I gotta go back anyway.”

Billy regards him above the glass container he eats from. It looks better than anything Steve had at the Wheeler house when he’d been welcomed there. Moms and casseroles… Huh, that probably means Susan made that. That’s a novelty to Steve, and he sits forward with his elbows digging into the card table. Billy must not hate her as much as he claims he does. Why eat her food? Why not just pump quarters into a vending machine or risk a hotdog from the filling station at the corner? Billy cares more than he lets on—a quiet love. 

Billy catches him eyeing the leftovers though. Steve half expects the alpha to sweep his right arm around the container and sort of hide it, clutch it to his chest. Steve would at least give him a snort and a wiry smile for his antics. Instead, Billy drags one more bite off the fork with his teeth, drops it in the empty space where he’s eaten half, and then shoves the whole thing in Steve’s direction. He stands without a word and makes for the sink, slapping his hand into the underside of the soap dispenser for pink slime. 

“If it’s not hot enough, put it back in the microwave for like 30 seconds. Heats up fine.”

Now of course Steve’s gut instinct is to reject this. He’d literally just snapped at Billy not to lecture him about eating. But as he stares at the broad spread and strong planes of Billy’s back shifting under his clothes… he thinks that’s not what this is. Billy could just argue him up and down if he wanted a fight. That’s not what this is. The squirming, grumbling creature under moss and wood rot that Steve fears scrambles a bit louder. It’s obvious what this is. Billy is just shit about being forthcoming. If this counts as Billy ‘providing’ for Steve, well…

It’s almost… sweet. Almost. Billy is full of almost. Almost good. Almost kind. Almost loving. He’s something just out of step and isn’t afraid to dart into the shadows when someone tries to pin him down and peel his layers away. Even now Billy gives Steve his back while washing his hands longer than necessary. Billy probably won’t turn around until he hears Steve eating. All so that Steve cannot read the intentions on his face or peek through the windows of his soul. Billy is good about showing people what he wants them to see. He still has eye holes in all the masks he wears, though. 

Holding back his sigh, Steve scoots the glass that much closer and carves out a section with the fork. Wrinkly green beans and chicken and other stuff—you know, a casserole—doesn’t look appetizing, but it tastes fine. Better than stale popcorn and gummy worms surely rotting his teeth. He won’t eat all of it. If only to annoy Billy. When he tries to challenge Billy on that, once the alpha reclaims his chair with a cigarette hanging on his lip, Billy doesn’t play ball. He eyes Steve and nods his head towards the omega. Finish eating. 

“I’m full,” Steve grumbles. 

And Billy stares him down when he murmurs right back, “It’s one more bite, Harrington, just eat it already.”

Another staring match, but Steve gives in quicker this time. His time is almost up. Any second now, Steve’s watch will give a warning beep that his break is over. Robin won’t mind the minute or two it’ll take him to wind his way back through Main Street to the store. Besides, Billy sits up straighter and sort of puffs up when Steve nudges the now-empty container back towards him. The urge to provide and care satisfied, Billy leans back in the chair with his legs spread wide and his fingers pinching his cigarette. 

“So…”

Steve blinks hard when Billy trails off. Normally he can’t get the alpha to zip his lips for nothing.. Plenty of bark for his bite. Billy drums the fingers of his free hand while ashing into an overflowing ashtray at the center of the table. What exactly are they supposed to talk about? They don’t share common interests—that Steve is aware of—and they certainly don’t ever talk more than witty banter and flirting. They are vines strung over an abyss, no foundation under them to catch them in moments like these. No common ground. 

It makes for awkward, forced small talk. Billy must scramble for something to say in the ensuing silence, because he sits up taller and leans on the table with his forearms. 

“So, when do you think the next fight will be?”

That all depends on timing of ruts of the various alphas who show up for Steve. Not every bachelor alpha drools after him. He’s not everyone’s type. It’s mostly boys they’d gone to high school with. Tommy and Jonathan, a few guys from the old team. Sometimes out-of-towners like Robin’s uncle. In hindsight, Steve is so happy Billy didn’t show up for that one. Things may have gotten rough and bloody, what with the uncle not playing fair and overpowering alphas half his age. 

So Steve shrugs, because he truly never knows when alphas are going to show up at his house like a sideshow attraction and duke it out on his front lawn. 

“Probably not for another month? My heat is coming up, so I’ll be very unavailable to watch some guys pound each other into the dirt. Not that it isn’t fun to watch, I’m not above my status to admit that.”

He tries for light, sarcastic humor. It usually works between them. Gets Billy grinning and playing along. Not this time. 

Billy nods and hums, lips disappearing behind the filter of his cigarette. 

“You got anybody you’re spending it with?”

That is awfully forward of Billy for where they are. And Steve tells him as much with a thin glare. 

“An alpha never asks, and an omega never tells.”

A scoff and blue eyes roll. Billy reeks of sharp disappointment through the shop’s scent smeared all over him. He understands the rejection for what it is. 

“Whatever, I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, stabs out his cigarette with it only half burned up. Exhaling smoke away from them, Billy snaps, “Isn’t your 30 minutes up?”

“Yea,” Steve drawls, totally cooled on the alpha now. Fuck him. “Yea, I reckon it is. See ya around, I guess.”

This isn’t at all how he’d wanted things to go. Even when he’s nervous with a pretty girl, things go better than this. At least he can make them laugh, even when she’s an alpha. Why is he so fucking bad with guys? Robin explained it to him. What his attraction means, that he’s bi, that it’s okay. Just don’t go spreading that around for fear of being run out of town. Even Golden Boy Steve Harrington isn’t immune to the insidious nature of homophobia. The fear of Other. Is that why can’t he ever manage to flirt cool as a cucumber with any guy? It’s always a spectacular train wreck with Billy—Billy a catastrophe all on his own—but even this is extremely poor for Steve. Hands jammed in his pockets, he stomps back the way he’d come. 

“Wait.”

Billy is hot along his back while Steve stands with the shop’s front door pulled open. Their hands almost touch where Billy slaps his own slightly above Steve’s. Face stricken and conflicted just over Steve’s shoulder, Billy fights with himself. With the blatant honesty that burns him whenever he means to be tender and nice to anyone. To Steve mostly. But Billy is thoroughly wrapped up in his crown of thorns, so it never works. This is the point where Steve should sigh and just say goodbye until next time. Until the next time they dance with four left feet and step on each other’s toes. 

Instead, Steve turns at the wall of Billy’s body, his back to the heat outside, and murmurs, “Hey…”

Billy’s head lifts up, and those wild eyes zero in on him. He’s ready for a fight. Ready for Steve to snap little omega fangs at him to get him to back off. They’re entirely too close. Billy doesn’t understand personal space. It’s something Steve appreciates about Billy. That he holds everyone at arm’s length but leans his body into them at the same time. He imposes. Not the other way around. Except this time. Steve leans into him, and Billy stands ramrod straight. Almost trembling. Billy is full of almost. 

Unable to meet Billy’s intense eyes, Steve stares at his boyish lips instead and mumbles, “For what it’s worth… I hope you win next time. Or at least one time.”

Billy’s voice is the most unstable, the most unlike himself when he blurts out a strained, “Yea?”

Steve hums, meets Billy’s wide eyes, and then goes for broke. Not a kiss, Jesus no. It’s way too early for that. Plus he wants to drag it out of Billy kicking and screaming how the alpha feels about him. Just to throw Billy off kilter like he does to everyone else. The shoe is on the other foot as Steve sweeps close, nuzzles his scent into Billy’s cheek with a soft trill, and then takes off at a jog back towards work. He misses the way Billy puffs up his chest and slaps a hand to the cheek Steve had scented.

Steve grins with his teeth in his lip anyway, so incredibly satisfied with riling up the alpha he keeps close in his heart. Maybe Billy will rile him back. Steve can only hope as he sprints to work with a little extra pep. And if Robin points out the way he practically glows the rest of their shift, Steve just lets her have a laugh at his expense. He’s in too high spirits to care about the ridicule or her teasing. Because now Billy knows he’s interested. Billy isn’t stupid, won’t be able to escape the smear of Steve’s scent on him. Words lie, misconstrue. Scent doesn’t. And Steve hopes Billy takes it to heart: win him for once, damn it!

Steve won’t leave that up to chance, though. In the kitchen, he spreads his plan out on the dinner table. With a notebook at the ready and a calendar flipped back and forth, Steve plots out a rough idea of when Billy ruts. He’s more regular than Jonathan, not as frequent as Tommy. At least with the incomplete data set Steve has to work with, tracking back in time all the fights Billy has shown up to. Tommy is the key to all this. Steve raps the bitten eraser of his pencil on his messy notes. He needs to get Tommy involved, beg a favor. If Tommy won’t do it for their friendship, then he can tempt the alpha with a little hanky panky. Tommy won’t turn down a warm mouth or clutch. Carol understands—hell, she’d probably watch. What’s a knot between best friends?

He calls Tommy over rather than explain it on the phone. They’re visual guys anyway, and Steve already has his desperation presentation prepared. Tommy stares at it with his mouth grinning and open. 

“What is all this then, Stevie?” Tommy flicks dark eyes up to Steve, across the table from the game plan. “You tracking the brawls now? What, trying to make things”—his eyebrows cock as he grins real wide—“interesting for us?”

“Actually…” And Steve has the decency to blush. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Tommy’s amusement is still thick on his pretty face, but he at least reels in his wide grin. 

“Anything for you, Stevie, you know I’m good for it.”

“Don’t be so quick to promise me  _ anything _ ,” Steve warms with a sheepish smile. “I kinda need you to throw a fight… If Billy shows up to the next fight with you, which according to all this shit, he will.”

Steve gestures with a hand to the kitchen table before them. Tommy will rut around the same time as Steve’s heat next month—no coincidence there, but he doesn’t linger on the memories—but the month after that, Steve skips his. But Billy should show up for the brawl. And Jonathan won’t until the following month after that. So with the wildcard of Jonathan out of the picture, Steve only has to worry about any unknown unknowns. Shit he doesn’t know that he doesn’t know. So a tourist popping up or one of the single dads in Hawkins wanting to try a piece of him could be a problem. It wouldn’t surprise Steve at all. But if Tommy is there, he’d win. So Steve needs him to lose to Billy. 

Tommy holds his hips in a mirror of Steve and drawls, “What? So Hargrove can win one? Really?”

“Are you gonna do it or not?”

Huffing and looking away for a split second, Tommy regards him a little cooler. Not unfriendly, just not as amused as before. 

“Why do you want him to win so bad? The guy’s a loser.”

Steve can’t help the hairs that rise on the back of his neck and the way he snaps, “Says the guy who followed him around like a pup our senior year. You just don’t like him anymore because he dropped everybody the moment we graduated.”

Tommy can’t refute that, but he snarls about it anyway. 

“A sore loser is a sore loser no matter how you cut it. I could kick his ass.”

“Yea I know, dipshit, that’s why I’m asking you to throw the fight next month and let Billy win.” Steve sighs, drops his arms, and then walks around the kitchen table. They stand toe to toe when Steve asks softly, “Please? I’m not asking for nothing, I’ll get you back. I just want him to win for once.”

A thick eyebrow flicks up on Tommy’s brow. 

“Never knew you to be a pity fucker, Stevie.”

“It’s not pity!” Steve’s hands strike like vipers for his hair. He only gets a few distressed yanks in before Tommy’s hands around his wrists tug him down. Defeated, Steve hangs his head and sighs, “Sorry.”

“Thought you quit that self-punishment shit, man. Come on, you’re not like… doing anything wrong. I guess he won’t fuck you if he doesn’t win? Sounds old fashioned to me.”

Steve shrugs with Tommy’s hands still cradling his wrists. He used to tear his hair out when they were younger. Punishing himself when he thought he was being bad. Tommy and Carol had been the anchors in his life to get him to stop. The epitome of an alpha and omega pairing he grew up idolizing. Finding each other so young, sticking together despite the temptations and distractions. They’ll bond one day, have been tiptoeing around it forever. Steve wants that. Wants someone to love him as much as he loves them. He’s still looking. 

“He’s courting me,” Steve confesses. “But he’s going about it in a—”

“Shitty? Stupid? Slow?”

Steve shoots him an impatient, tight smile.

“He’s going about it his own way, which is fine, I just wanna—”

“Throw a dog a bone?” Tommy asks with his grin renewed. He’d felt along that meandering thread of Steve’s. “How noble of you, Stevie.”

Head thrown back with a sigh, Steve flops right back down and groans, “You gonna help me or not? I’ll make it worth your while.”

A thick eyebrow cocks above that smarmy smirk.

“What’s in it for me?”

Amber eyes roll, and Steve grumbles, “I don’t know man, you want a blowjob or something? Wanna share my heat next month? What do you want?”

Tommy doesn’t wiggle excitedly or make some goofy noise like Steve expects. Instead, he stares down between them where he still holds Steve by the wrists. His thumbs bump over the knobs of those wrists, petting him in a tender, familiar sort of way.

“Wouldn’t mind taking a trip down memory lane, but…” Tommy’s mouth tugs up with wolfish desire. “If a blowjob involves me blowing you right here right now, I wouldn’t say no.”

And doesn’t that rake nails right down Steve’s spine? He perks all the way up when Tommy blinks slightly up at him and licks his lips. The rush of blood percolating and filling Steve’s face with heat makes him dizzy. 

“I-uh…” He jumps in Tommy’s grasp where the alpha squeezes his wrists. No pain. Only the promise of pleasure. No one knows his body better than Tommy. “Yea man, if you want.”

Tommy’s big cheeks bunch up in his smirk. He takes a step forward only for Steve to take a larger step back. Always backing down from an alpha intruding into his space. Even after knowing each other almost their whole lives, Steve does this. At least it excites the other party, and Steve tastes Tommy’s on the roof of his mouth like hot oil spitting. That excitement is even thicker when Steve walks his ass into the edge of the table and jumps with a yelp. Cornered, or close enough, Steve is between a rock and a hard place. Tommy bends weight into him and slides a thigh between his.

“I’ll make it real good for you, Stevie. Bet none of the other alphas can take you like me.”

Jonathan is pretty close. Jonathan has to take some time to warm himself up to the task, though. Tommy? He barely needs a bob or two, just to slick skin with spit, before he swallows everything Steve gives him. His knees already shake with the memories painted on top of older ones. Luckily, the kitchen table is heavy behind him. It holds Steve’s weight when he slaps a hand out behind him to catch himself. Tommy lets his other wrist go, too, in exchange for grabbing Steve by the hips over his cotton pants. The drawstring isn’t even tied.

Tommy rolls his thumbs over the ridge of hip muscle under moles and asks, “Well? You want me to help that loser win or not?”

“Deal,” Steve blurts on the heels of Tommy’s sass. “Deal, man, deal, get your mouth on me already.”

Tommy doesn’t need further invitation or further convincing. One hand fisted in Steve’s t-shirt and the other at his hip, Tommy coaxes Steve onto the tips of his toes. And takes a step forward between his legs. The omega has nowhere to go but backwards until his ass pops over the edge of the table. Tommy just urges him back until Steve’s ass barely hangs off the edge, barely sitting. Tommy holds Steve right where he wants him with a smirk heavy on his lips. When Steve keeps still, gives Tommy no reason to not trust him, Tommy’s hands slide down, down, down.

As they go, they urge Steve to relax. Steve sinks to his forearms flat on the table. He props himself up like that, will need to mind his elbows grinding into the table. Down the slope of his torso, he watches Tommy with melty eyes as the alpha tucks his fingers into the waistband of cotton pants. Steve’s legs dangle towards the floor, but he has to pop his hips up to free his pants. They slip over Steve’s slim hips no problem and then pool at his ankles. Tommy kicks them aside and admires Steve bare for him. No underwear.

“No underwear was a nice touch,” Tommy says with his mouth hovering over tightening flesh. Steve isn’t quite half-hard yet, but he’s getting there with every breath he takes. “Kinda makes a guy think you planned all this, too.” He grins up at Steve. “Stevie with the master plan, damn you want Hargrove bad!”

Pouting, Steve draws up a foot between them and presses it to Tommy’s hip. He could kick the alpha away no problem. Probably hurt him in the process, too, if he’s going to be an ass.

“Your bedroom talk could use some work, Tommy, but that’ll have to be a lesson for next time.”

Steve sacrifices a hand steadying him to curl Tommy’s short, fluffy hair around his fingers. He doesn’t even have to bear weight down on Tommy’s head to get the alpha to bring lips to skin. To the trimmed hair around his dick that Tommy licks just like all the other alphas. Only Steve doesn’t laugh and poke fun this time. His fingers tighten in Tommy’s hair and pull him closer. Amber eyes almost haze over as they stare down the flat plane of his belly to where the action is. Tommy keeps his eyes closed as he mouths generous laps of his tongue and lippy kisses all over him. But when those smirking lips dare to brush Steve’s semi bobbing by his jaw, Tommy’s ink-brown eyes slide open all nice and slow to meet his. And Steve holds their stare for the first, lazy lap of Tommy’s tongue over his cock.

Sealing his lips to warm flesh and sliding up, Tommy guides Steve’s cock to lie pointed up at the panting omega’s face. He makes sure it stays there by chasing the curve of him up to the head. Generous lips and a tongue to join them, mouth kiss after filthy kiss to the underside of him. It’s so much so fast for a sensitive spot, and Steve’s hips pop off the table to rut his cock against Tommy’s mouth. The alpha growls against him and pulls back. Tommy’s hands slap him in the chest before Steve gets a whine of protest out.

Tommy’s strength zip down Steve’s arms and buckles them at his elbows, spilling him to the table. Tommy leaves one hand up to pet Steve all over on top of his shirt. The other returns to the omega’s hip and pins him to the table. Like this, Tommy hovers above his erection that doesn’t need any help pointing to his navel anymore. Steve’s hand shaking but still tangled in Tommy’s hair dares to apply some force. Just a suggestion, a hint. Steve even trills all pretty for Tommy, begging with his teeth drawing over his cherry bottom lip. Only for him to whine so softly with his lips still parted.

That tiny curl of noise is a cloying finger of temptation that draws Tommy’s mouth harder to blushing flesh. Tommy cranes that much farther forward and slides the plush circle of his lips over Steve’s head. The rest is a few strokes to get them wet together and then Tommy bobs the head of Steve’s dick in and out his throat. Steve wants to watch, but the combination of Tommy staring him down and his lids fluttering, Steve can’t hold out. He falls flat to his back, hikes his legs up, and then loops them over Tommy’s shoulders. His heels may dig into Tommy, but he can’t care about that right now. Tommy’s mouth around him is too good to care about anything else.

All the while and through every bob of Tommy’s head, Steve’s grip in fluffy hair does not falter. He knows how hard he can push Tommy. How much pain the alpha will tolerate. This is nothing compared to what they can do while on their respective cycles. Tommy likes to leave marks on his chest, around his nipples. And Steve likes to rake his nails over Tommy’s ribs. It hurts to drive and walk with them there. They like to feel each other in the wake of their desires slaked.

“Tommy,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, you feel so good inside.” His chest arches off that table as Tommy’s free hand drums quick fingers over a nipple. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy!”

When Tommy has space in his throat to breathe, he hums around Steve before filling himself back up. It takes everything in Steve not to snap his hips into the tight swallows around him. Harder still is to keep his grip in Tommy’s hair just as something to hold on to and not direct. Not to make demands. Steve only has his rambling and pretty trills when his pleasure plumes higher and hotter inside him.

He chases that high, arching his chest into Tommy’s hand. Offering himself. Tommy always did like slipping his hands under Steve’s shirt from behind to squeeze his chest like tits. And sometimes he did it just to tease lowly in Steve’s ear about how puffy they get when he’s in heat or around an alpha in rut. No one lavishes his chest with such attention like Tommy. It’s a treat like Jonathan’s aggression. To be savored. So Steve doesn’t shy away even when Tommy turns mean and rolls his hard nipple between thumb and curled index finger. That sweet pain just shoots straight down to his dick and makes him tingle in Tommy’s throat. He’s already close.

“Close, close, oh god, c-close, Tommy,” Steve pants as he starts to shift under Tommy’s hand. “Wanna come inside you…”

The force at Steve’s hip lightens from pinning to holding. Tommy even encourages Steve to fuck his throat with his added strength nudging Steve’s hips into a rhythm. It won’t take much more with the whole feel of this changing. No longer is Tommy the active force but the passive. Where once Tommy’s wicked lips had drawn wet up and down him, now Steve spears past the tight bow of his mouth. Now Steve’s hand turns just as mean as Tommy’s at his chest. He twirls and twists those locks until he knows he’s tugging on Tommy’s scalp. Forcing that talkative mouth harder on his dick. The alpha moans around him when Steve isn’t dipping deeper inside him. Tommy’s face is relaxed through it all. Taking what Steve gives him.

Steve doesn’t have eyes for that, though. He’s too busy squirming on the table, rolling his hip up to Tommy’s mouth, and panting with his eyes shut. Tommy is just too good. Steve would have come instantly if he’d looked for longer than a few seconds. Already it creeps up on him, the heavy fingers of his orgasm. They curl into a fist as Tommy coaxes his hips faster, thrusts harder. Steve takes the permission given to him, digs his heels into Tommy’s back for leverage, and drags Tommy’s head down when his hips snap up.

“Oh fuck, Tommy, gonna come fuck yes, lemme come in you, alpha!”

Tommy’s head fights Steve’s strength, shortening Steve’s thrusts. In retaliation, Steve slaps both hands into Tommy’s hair to drag his head down. Like this, grin bitten at his lip, Steve goes back to short thrusts into Tommy’s throat. Letting him up enough to breathe, but driving himself deeper into Tommy than before. His snobby nose presses to coarse hair. Steve holds him there, even grinds himself into Tommy’s face. But he just as quickly goes back to those short nudges. Next breath choked, Steve’s mouth drops open in a shout as his orgasm crashes into him. He can’t even cry Tommy’s name as he shoots down the alpha’s throat. And Tommy swallows this time as he has every time before.

Steve is a puddle of sated omega once his orgasm goes from explosive to aftershocks. That energy lingers between his legs, especially where his cock is still in Tommy’s mouth. Not deep anymore, just plush heat cradling him until he’s ready to slip out. Steve’s hands tremble something awful when they slip out of Tommy’s hair and plop to the table. Each breath is much-needed coolness for his face and brain. No one takes care of him like this better than Tommy. It almost compares to a brief knot. Better than Robin’s fucking uncle. Steve chuckles almost breathlessly at the thought. That Tommy blowing him is better than Robin’s uncle fucking him in the ass. Imagine it.

“Mmm, god damn, Stevie,” Tommy croaks when he lifts his mouth off Steve. Steve can’t open his eyes, can’t see the way Tommy rubs feeling back into the hinges of his jaws. “Been too long since we did that. Think I’m getting rusty.”

Wiggling through his weaker aftershocks, Steve mumbles a little slurred, “Get better at eating Carol out and maybe you wouldn’t have that problem.”

It’s not a true sore spot. Between Tommy and Carol, she treats Tommy like Steve had just now. Everything is becoming more progressive all the time. But the power play between Tommy and Carol is still seen as odd. The alpha giving control over to the omega. But it takes devotion and unconditional trust for Tommy to do that. Even Steve isn’t in too much control over Tommy. They both just get off on the illusion between them. They both know he’ll only ever submit to Carol.

Cooler air rushes to take Tommy’s place. He grumbles under his breath as Steve opens his eyes and tries to sit up. He finds Tommy squatting down to reclaim Steve’s cotton pants from the floor. He goes so far as to snake Steve’s feet through the leg holes and sort of drape his pants up the omega’s thighs. There’s no mess that needs immediate attention. And it wouldn’t be the first time Steve has sat up from fucking Tommy’s mouth only to tuck himself back in his pants and go on his merry way. They still have to discuss the plan about Billy winning. The conversation winds back to Steve’s heat, though, as Tommy watches him with soft thoughtfulness. Steve clothes are back in order. They’re back on task.

“Your heat is next month, right? Same times as it always was?”

Tommy means back when they’d been in high school and Tommy was the alpha to spend it with. Because Steve didn’t trust anyone else. Or himself to spend it alone and hungry. 

“Y-yea, it hasn’t changed.”

They don’t talk about it. How even now, two years after they’d stopped sharing their heats and ruts, that they’re still in sync. It was too risky to rut with Carol. Her parents refused to put her on birth control, said it was unnatural or some bullshit. And Tommy was already fucking Steve once every other month or so anyway. So why not just hook up every month when they were feeling the need no one else could satisfy? It made sense to kill two birds with one stone. And nothing ever came of it. They’re still friends. Tommy has Carol, and Steve has, well…

Tommy nods and says thickly, “Cool, cool man, uh… Let’s spend it together.” He lifts his head and has to look up at Steve despite Steve’s chin in his chest. Always trying to make himself small. “For old time’s sake, you know? I’m gonna ask Carol to be my mate so…”

Steve perks right up at that and leans into Tommy when he says, “Really? You guys are finally gonna bond? For real?”

Sheepish but proud, Tommy can’t help it when he puffs up. He looks away, though, embarrassed. Excited, but embarrassed.

“Yea man, it’s whatever. I like Carol.”

“You love her,” Steve insists. He stumbles away from the table only to loop his arms around Tommy and pull him close. “That’s so great, I’m happy for you. Are you guys gonna, like, have a ceremony or anything?”

Tommy relaxes almost instantly in Steve’s arms and holds him back like it’s nothing. Because it is nothing. They’re best friends, always used to hold each other. Especially after the three of them had presented around the same time. No one was more excited about Steve turning out as an omega than Tommy. Still thick as thieves, only then Tommy had something to prove. To protect his omegas—even if Steve would never really be his. They’ll always have something special. They’ll always be friends. 

When they part, Tommy laughs a little sheepish and tries to say, “Nah, that ain’t us… But Steve, like, I was half kidding when I said that, about spending your heat together. Like I want to, but I didn’t mean you had to like pay me off…”

“Yea whatever,” Steve fires right back, all light hearted and smiles. “We should though. Like you said, for old time’s sake. I know you’ll never break your bond with Carol.”

Tommy waggles his eyebrows at Steve and says with a grin, “It’s a date. Now about the fight with Hargrove…”

They can only plan so much. There are too many unknowns to account for. They’re not the sharpest tools in the shed. It’s best to just wing most of it and think on their feet. Years of ditching the cops at parties or smoking weed at the quarry has made them improv masters. Under stress, at least. They have two grueling months to wait for all this to sync up anyway. All they know for sure is that Tommy will be there and the chance of Billy showing up is practically guaranteed. And that Tommy will lose on purpose. For Steve. 

Steve and Billy still dance around each other for those two months. Steve throws little get togethers on Fridays, and Billy is there. Billy is the last to leave, trying to be subtle when he weaves around the house and backyard to pick up trash and empties. He never says anything while they’re alone. They’re just aware of each other in Steve’s territory. While Billy tends to it and sets it back to rights. More providing in Billy’s silent, stubborn way. The only thing that changes is that Steve walks Billy out to the Camaro parked in front. And usually nuzzles his cheek in thanks. Billy even turns his jaw up a little just before Steve does it. Anticipating. Baring his throat first. 

So Steve is excited and nearly vibrates apart at his seams on a Thursday night in late July. The heat is oppressive, humidity soupy on his front lawn. But he’s out here with Tommy, his car parked at the end of the circle driveway to leave space for anyone else. Steve sits on the front steps with Tommy’s thigh brushing his. If the air weren’t choked with cicadas crying and fireflies bumping about, the musk of Tommy’s rut would still thicken the air. Steve nudges his shoulder to get him to stop grinding his teeth. The poor alpha sees no fight coming and so wants to claim something. Not Steve anymore. He’ll have Carol’s mark any day, now. They’re waiting until Tommy helps Steve with this. If Tommy is claimed, then there will be no one for Billy to fight. No winner. 

“What if he doesn’t show up?” Tommy grinds out through sore teeth. Steve knows they ache to bite. Tommy has always been a biter. “Have you seen him recently? Talked to him? Maybe he gave up.”

Certainly not. The last time Steve had seen Billy was yesterday. Billy walked over from the body shop when Steve’s shift ended and sort of loitered with the omega at his car. When the silence was too much for Steve, skin crawling in the heat and needing to get home, Billy stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Oddly gentle for Billy. They just stood there with Billy’s hand rough from labor and stained under his nails from grease. No shift at the pool that day. Billy’s fingers pressed to the inside of Steve’s wrist until his pulse wiggled like an animal trying to escape. And Billy held him that way while nuzzling him first. The first time Billy initiated. And then it was over with Billy nearly ripping himself away. He stomped back to the shop with his shoulders hunched, clenched fists jammed in his pockets. 

“No,” Steve says quietly, hands loose and relaxed where they dangle between his bent knees. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the street if he wanted to. “He’ll show up. It's different, now, something is gonna happen tonight. There’s like this… I don’t know, this charge between us now. Like when you take two magnets and hold them close but don’t let them snap together. How you can feel the pull in your fingers? Like that.”

Tommy whistles and then barks a few laughs into the evening. It won’t get dark until damn near 9 o’clock. It’s only 7 right now. They have plenty of time. 

“Damn Stevie, you guys got it bad. I seriously can’t believe you two aren’t fucking.”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Steve corrects with a grumble. “Trust me, you’d know if we were. Billy probably wouldn’t shut up about it. The whole town would know.”

“He’s not the only one who wouldn’t shut up about it.” Tommy grins sideways at him, laughs when Steve shoves his shoulder. “You are so whipped! Oh my god, do you like? Love him?”

Steve grits his teeth and goes to grab his best friend by the collar of his shirt. The lion roar of the Camaro screaming down the street cuts him off. The muscle car doesn’t hesitate at all to turn into the circle driveway of the Harrington house. Steve and Tommy rocket to their feet together, nearly stumbling into each other as they try to spring apart. No need for Billy to get his hackles up and come charging out of the Camaro, fists already going full throttle just because Tommy is too close to Steve. Billy isn’t even out of the car yet, hasn’t even killed the engine, but Tommy already stalks around to size Billy up. They’ve never come to blows yet—for Steve or otherwise. So Tommy is just as curious about what’s going to happen as Steve. They have to stick to the plan, though. Tommy has to lose. 

Billy emerges from the Camaro with his hair messy from the window rolled down. He’s in jeans and a black t-shirt, but on the wind is the chlorinated stink of the pool that doesn’t wash off when Billy showers in the community center locker room. Steve blanches to think Billy hadn’t showered period before coming here, but that doesn’t fit with Billy’s vanity. The thought doesn’t much matter when Billy glances his way, the alpha a bit rough around the edges and eyes maybe too wide, and then makes a beeline for Tommy. No preamble, just boots marching straight into the brawl. 


	3. Billy "Wild Card" Hargrove Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday again, folks, you know what that means. Billy's time with Steve is split into two chapters, because I have no self-control when it comes to a word count. And this was getting long in the tooth lol. Billy's "nickname" is wild card, because... well, you'll see. A lot of people are gonna like Billy in these two chapters. At least someone will lol.
> 
> I'm sitting on four one-shots right now. They will begin publishing on April 25th, the Saturday after the last part of this posts. All are ABO and have an increasing amount of Billy Being A Piece of Shit as they'll publish lol. Heads up if you've been a fan of mine until this point lol. Because Billy is what I like to refer to as a Trash Person in ALL of the one-shots. And for one of the fics in particular, I don't pull any punches, Billy is just straight up Not A Good Person. Except the fem Harringrove ABO one-shot where I try to do female alphas justice. Billie is very much a grumpy sweetheart in that one, and that's the one that's coming out first. But the other three? Good luck. Billy is Garbage lol. I can't WAIT to show you.
> 
> [@missraygillette](https://twitter.com/missraygillette) I tweet about things I'm working on. Come love these stupid boys with me.

Tommy’s fist connects first. Why is Billy so shit at ducking? Steve recalls bobbing and weaving the one time he and Billy had come to blows. Sure, Billy was a dirty fucking cheat and cracked a dinner plate over Steve’s head after Steve blooded his little nose. But up until the point Billy started pummeling him for real, the alpha never tried to avoid a punch. He just takes them, doesn’t even shrug it off when Tommy bops him twice in the jaw. It just builds up his rage and the tension under his skin. Steve’s body hums with interest on the sidelines. Tommy clearly taking the advantage after about thirty seconds sort of spoils it. 

This can’t last long. Billy has stamina to spare, but not with someone light footed like Tommy. Tommy will dance around and let the larger alpha tire himself out. Steve has watched Tommy win fight after fight in high school using that exact technique. Maybe he stole it from Mohammed Ali. Jonathan is all berserker strength. Tommy is holding out and striking when the time is right. Billy is… a brute force kind of guy. It doesn’t win fights, at least not fair fights. That gives Steve an idea. Even though it makes his face heat up. He jerked off this morning thinking about the fight, maybe touched his nipples more than he should have… They still hurt. Still puffy, too. 

“Damn it, Tommy,” Steve swears under his breath.

Tommy is absolutely about to win this thing, head lost to the competition before him. Forgetting about the fucking plan. Steve can’t really blame his best friend. A rutting alpha has a one-track mind, and the goal in mind is to win. At least Tommy is making it look good while Steve shoves his shame away—shame over what he’s about to do. 

The alphas break apart with Billy stumbling and catching himself with his hands on his thighs. He breathes hard and snarls through curls spilling over his ears. Tommy barely breaks a sweat. Steve needs to make a move to tip the scales. It’s not quite as dirty as a dinner plate to the head but… 

Hands already at the hem of his shirt, Steve calls out, “Hey Tommy!”

Both alphas glance at him, thinking maybe he’s calling a victor. Instead, Steve stares with his most bored expression at Tommy and lifts his shirt. Exposing his pale chest and the rosy-brown nipples there. And both see exactly how swollen they are.

The alphas perk up, but Tommy is the distracted one. He’s closer, tilts his head up to scent Steve’s excitement on the wind. Because this is the fight Steve would be hedging his bets on. He wants a specific outcome and has too many emotions riding on it. So instead of being a passive observer, maybe even disinterested, Steve throws his hat in the ring. And Billy takes full advantage of Tommy falling for his ploy. 

Tommy stands on his feet with his body cocked towards Steve, mouth agape. The ground rushes up to meet him with Billy charging and slamming into him. Blink and you’d miss it. Tommy groans after the air gets knocked out of him, Billy shoving him by a shoulder to splay flat on his back in the grass. Billy’s knees spread around Tommy’s hips, paying no mind to the grass stains that will rub into the denim. Steve recognizes the pose, knows Billy is about to go ham on Tommy’s pretty face. For Carol’s sake—and maybe Billy’s, since Carol is not above keying cars and slashing tires—Steve steps in before Billy even rears a fist back. 

A trill does nothing. Billy may as well be wearing earplugs, deaf to the world. Steve is quick to bend his knees to put himself on Billy’s level and reach for his elbow. A mistake. The graze of fingers on his skin has Billy whipping his head to Steve, mindless and wild, and he snaps his teeth. He forgets all about Tommy in that instant, eyes on the prize, and rockets up from straddling the other alpha. Steve scrambles back and almost falls on his ass in his haste to get up. To get out of range. Figures Billy would just wind himself up tighter and tighter instead of falling all pliant over the omega he’s won. Steve could just beat his own head in. 

Billy had parked close when he pulled up. To shorten the distance to the brawl once he launched himself out of the Camaro. The hood is still warm when Steve walks backwards and stumbles into it. He slaps a hand out to catch himself and falls on his right side. Billy stalks closer and closer with the snarl still on his face, shoulders shifting under his shirt like a lion waiting to pounce. It would humiliate Steve to admit it to anyone, but as he leans on the Camaro and stares up at all that aggression waiting to devour him, he gives a trill of interest. Of arousal to match the sweetness already budding at his neck. At least Billy won’t be able to smell that he’s already wet. Hopefully. 

Going for broke as denim-clad thighs press to his and threaten to flatten him to the Camaro under all that bulk, Steve whispers all fluttery and light, “Billy wait…”

He’s not afraid. Not truly. First of all, Billy and he are far beyond the point of their rocky… whatever this is for Billy to still beat on him. That had been a one time, charged thing years ago. They got it out of their systems and never even threatened to swing at each other again. Second of all, no rutting alpha even out of their mind would hurt the omega they came to claim. That would make the energy spent on the brawl rather useless, and alphas in rut have a one-track mind. Get their knot in someone sooner than later. Claim them. Breed them.

And judging by the interested bulge pressed to Steve’s hip, Billy definitely isn’t keen on hurting him. Steve’s back is flat to the Camaro, shivering despite the warmth. He stares up at Billy hovering above him. Watching him with those feverish eyes. They’re not as wide as they were. Less crazed. Billy is still in there somewhere. Probably screaming at himself for going too fast all of a sudden. There’s no slow way during a rut, though. Only fast and hard, again and again until the burning under Billy’s skin is satisfied. 

Billy just watching him while his panting calms down to ragged breaths stirs up nerves in Steve. He doesn’t exactly like the idea of comparing himself to prey, but Billy staring him down makes the allusion appropriate. So like dumb prey, Steve reaches for Billy’s shoulders. To do what? To hold him at bay? To draw him closer? To just feel him? Steve’s reasons don’t much matter when blue eyes zip to the movement and big hands snatch Steve’s wrists. It doesn’t hurt, but Steve jumps hard between Billy and the Camaro anyway. Nowhere to go. He just rocks their bodies together and coaxes a rumbling groan out of Billy. 

Those big hands that don’t hurt where they grip him guide Steve back to the Camaro. Billy lays him out like that, hips pinning Steve’s while his hands make sure Steve can’t squirm away. Or defend himself. Blue eyes go wide again, but not crazed, when Steve goes boneless on the hood of the car. Submitting. Steve breathes hard for no reason, head turned to the side and showing off the two beauty marks on his cheek. That and the pale column of his throat, all bare for Billy. Glancing at Billy sideways and about to go out of his mind from how turned on he is, Steve tries again to appease the alpha with a trill. Just a quiet thing. 

The front shocks of the Camaro whine when Billy’s entire weight falls on top of Steve. Not hard. Not enough to knock the air out of him. Billy’s weight is pleasant and firm, not to be challenged. Safe. Those ragged breaths now puff in Steve’s ear, in his hair. Most importantly they ghost over his neck and raise all the body hair on him until it stings. Billy won’t bite him. Or at least not for a mark. Steve isn’t his to mark. That doesn’t stop Billy from breathing him in and groaning as he rubs himself into Steve’s hip, mindless of how their jeans make burning friction. But beyond that and some mouthy kisses to Steve’s throat—barely kisses, they’re more Billy’s mouth just smearing over his skin—Billy does… nothing.

It’s not what Steve expects. Billy to be so… cuddly. He thought the alpha would be the growling, aggressive type. Grab him by an arm or the back of his neck and drag him wherever Billy’s rut-addled brain decided was a good enough place to bend him over and knot him. Not whatever this is—Billy heavy on top of him and content to just purr in the hollow under his ear, nose buried there to scent him. Sure, Billy still rocks his hips and grinds himself into Steve. But it’s not the scratching, biting flurry of fucking Steve thought it would be. 

So he lies on the hood of the Camaro, staring straight up at the blue sky, and breathes, “Oh…,” like a revelation. 

Billy doesn’t see the need to broadcast his claim or force Steve with him. Like Jonathan does sometimes or even Tommy when Tommy used to jealously guard Steve until they were alone. Herding him into a quiet, secluded place. Billy doesn’t need to do that. Some animal part of the alpha sees Steve as his. It had just taken winning a fight for Billy’s instincts and actions to click together. This is the sort of loving Steve has seen Tommy give Carol over and over. Can’t get enough of her, is like a little boy reaching to be held. Billy’s hands have turned from loose shackles at Steve’s wrists to barely holding him. It’s easy to shake himself free and then wrap his arms around the alpha, palms flat in the damp patch between Billy’s shoulder blades. 

Now Steve grunts when Billy settles fully on top of him. He must have been holding some part of himself back. Waiting for Steve to push him away or object. He’d have to be crazy to do that. Steve doesn’t try to explain it in words. He nuzzles curls the color of wet sand despite the tang of chlorine sticking to them and trills that much louder. Encouraging. He wiggles against Billy’s weight, too, to free his legs. Not to kick or escape but to hike them up and wrap them around Billy. Through the charged atmosphere building up around them, Steve blinks haze out of his eyes and finds Tommy sitting on the stoop. Watching with a smile and a flick of his fingers when their eyes meet. 

It’s maybe the sweetest thing anyone has done for him. Someone waiting around to make sure he’s okay with the alpha who’s won him. Steve huffs where his chin hooks over Billy’s shoulder and smiles at Tommy. He tries to lift his hand to wave back, but Billy bears more weight down on him. One of them is still connected to the earth and has leverage, after all. So Steve rolls his eyes and just jerks his head towards Tommy’s car. It’s fine. Tommy doesn’t have to stay. Billy won’t hurt him. 

Steve doesn’t try to poke Billy into getting off him until he can’t hear Tommy’s car anymore. They’re alone. Still, even when Steve wiggles under him, Billy doesn’t budge. 

“Come on, man,” Steve laughs lightly. “Get off me so we can go inside.”

Billy is more interested in nosing down Steve’s throat, jaw shoving the collar of his shirt out of the way. Shaking his head to the sky, Steve drags his hands up to dive into Billy’s hair. It’s stiff in some places. So the alpha hasn’t washed as thoroughly as he normally does. Well, as normally as Steve suspects anyway.

“You wanna… fool around in the shower?”

That gets Steve a twitch of interest. The edges of teeth in his throat. Steve jerks under all that weight despite the grip at his neck. Not biting. Just holding his pulse. Billy hums around Steve so vulnerable in his jaws. But he unlocks after that, lapping a few times at the slight indents he leaves behind. Then it’s just a matter of Steve wedging his strength against Billy like a pry bar to get the alpha standing again. Steve cannot resist the temptation to look down at the fronts of their jeans once they’re on their feet again. Billy is still hard, probably will be until he’s satisfied. That’s going to make the shower Steve has just proposed interesting. Good thing he already planned on joining Billy.

On their feet and stumbling, Billy tries to lead them. But the front door is locked, so he ends up blanketing Steve’s back while Steve fools with the keys. His hands aren’t idle, either. They cup Steve’s hips from behind while Billy leans weight on him. Humid breaths mix with the summer air at Steve’s neck, Billy’s jaw happy to sweep soft locks away to give him access. Steve jumps with every squeeze at his hips, can’t help but wiggle trapped between the front door and Billy. A rock and a hard place, just how he likes. This needs to go faster. 

The temptation to skip the shower and fall into bed is there. But Steve has no frame of reference for Billy. How long of a rutter he is. Jonathan is one and done, Tommy sometimes two if it had been a while. For all Steve knows, Billy is a three-day weekend. And it’s best to be overly prepared than underprepared. So even though Billy’s hands try to tug him towards the sectional in the living room, Steve just laughs all pretty and sweet and tugs Billy up the stairs instead. The alpha huffs at him, inpatient, but he follows. And Steve can’t help old habits. 

“That’s right, big guy, this way. We gotta get the pool stink off you. Too excited to drive over here and show me what for, huh?” Steve points to his hair when he pulls Billy into the bathroom. “You missed some spots.”

Squinting in the bright and closeness of the bathroom, Billy’s eyes follow Steve’s hands up to brown locks. His callused hands are just behind as Billy digs them in and threads his fingers as deep as they’ll go. A breath knocks out of Steve and echoes off the tiles when Billy draws their bodies together. The alpha presses out every inch of space between their chests, and when that’s not good enough, he walks Steve backwards into the nearest surface. Which is the sink. As much as Steve would love to do this, the shower is imperative. 

“Ah-ah, man, hold your horses, you’re taking a shower before we get up to anything.” Steve even cranes his head out of the way of Billy’s intense focus on his lips moving. “I have standards, you know.”

A wiry grin wiggles on Billy’s stern mouth. His first expression besides snapping rage since he’d showed up. He leans that much closer, and Steve either has to bend back into the medicine cabinet behind his head or stand his ground. Billy aims for his cheek, though, and something inside Steve does jumping jacks and tumbles when Billy only nuzzles him with a purr. It’s still not what Steve expects, so he just stands there with his hands hovering around the curves of Billy’s shoulders. About to push him away, yes, but if the alpha just wants some scenting, Steve will allow that. Billy leans even more weight on him like back outside all over again until his lips reach Steve’s ear. 

It takes some swallowing with his throat clicking to get out the single word. And Billy drags the sounds over the warm coals of his rumbling vice. 

“Stay.”

Steve startles at the vibrations tickling his ear. He startles again when Billy’s hands drop out of his hair all the way down to the hem of his shirt. Thick fingers play with the cotton, dipping under to scratch gently over pale skin and Steve’s treasure trail. He can’t quite undress Steve with them so close. But Steve receives the message loud and clear: stay with me. Shower with me. Let me touch you. 

“Yea, hell yea I’ll stay,” Steve breathes with an eager nod. “Come on, hurry up and undress me, big guy, and we’ll get in together.”

It’s uncoordinated. Billy’s antics shouldn’t surprise him—he’s not going to be like the alphas Steve had in the past—but yet Steve finds himself sputtering and laughing. Billy refuses to come out of the crook of his neck while those rough hands try to tug Steve’s shirt off at the same time. One-track mind. They always want to undress him, no concern for how they’ll accomplish that goal. They have no concern for anything, including themselves, that stands in their way. Steve still chuckles warm and amused as he pries Billy off him with both hands on the alpha’s chest. Never one to refuse an indulgence, Steve’s hands linger long enough to fondle all that muscle under Billy’s t-shirt. And Billy actually arches into his touch and purrs that much louder against Steve’s cheek.

“Oh my god,” he laughs into Billy’s hair. “You’re ridiculous, come on, get off me so we can get naked.”

Steve nudges and shuffles them back across the bathroom, just two steps, until Billy’s back is flat to the door. The alpha’s loopiness thins at being caged, and Billy’s upper lip shivers when Steve reaches for him. Steve holds Billy’s narrowed stare for a second to decide if Billy is serious or not. It’s better to be over-prepared than underprepared when it comes to an unfamiliar alpha. So Steve decides against trying to undress Billy and works on himself instead. He knows Billy wants to be the one to peel the layers away until it’s just Steve in his skin. He just needs some encouragement. A reason to take over.

“Not really used to undressing myself,” Steve laments with a pitiful look Billy’s way. He turns his cheek to Billy and adds it on thick while looking away, “But I guess if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’ll do it.”

It’s the loneliest he can make himself sound. It’s usually the thing to seal the deal with any nervous alpha. Steve keeps his eyes down even as Billy takes the one step separating them closer. Steve’s fingers already tangle in the hem of his shirt. He’s never gotten it over and off his head before an alpha was on him. He doesn’t even bare midriff when Billy’s fingers brush his. Rough from the shop and his weights, dry from the pool. But their strength is coaxing rather than prying when Billy slips his fingers between Steve’s and his shirt. Like this, he takes over the task of tugging Steve’s shirt off. And even that is more of a glide than a tug. Billy’s restraint—No, Billy’s carefulness spins Steve’s heard around like a windmill in the throes of a tornado. And when Steve shakes his head and hair free of his shirt, Billy’s blues are ever so slightly above his. Waiting.

That’s more like it. Steve never notices it when he hunches down. It’s just something he does, harder to accomplish with these alphas who are shorter than him. So… all his repeat alphas. Jonathan may be the same height as Billy, Tommy actually shorter than them. Still, Steve finds a way, at least until Billy’s hands draw his shirt up all the way and sort of needs Steve to play along. Which he does with a quiet laugh when Billy’s arms are too short to free Steve’s reaching for the ceiling. Steve takes over that much, and when he’s free, he finds those same fingers picking at the button and zip on his jeans. No belt, no underwear. What’s the point?

Steve kicks his jeans free and goes about posturing in front of the dazed alpha with hands on his hips, obviously proud. 

“Like what you see?”

The myth about omegas having small dicks is probably what insults Steve the most about presenting as one. His body had probably known all along what it would turn out to be. But he’s nothing like how pin-up pictures and dirty mags show them to be. He has body hair to spare, lithe muscles, and a dick he’s rather proud of. No demure omega here. It must be a turn on for Billy, because that heavy gaze drifts everywhere.

Billy is all eyes on the exposed planes of him. Steve holds still with his back to the shower and tub as two hands reach out for him. He expects Billy to just go for the goal. Maybe his nipples—still puffy, fucking damn it—or just to help himself to some dick. Steve doesn’t mind fast tracking this if Billy wants to get right to it. Fucking in the shower isn’t the safest or funnest thing, but he’ll do it to get that knot in him. So Steve frowns thoughtfully and lets out a tiny curl of a sound when all Billy does is drag his fingertips over pale skin and moles. Connecting the dots like he’s finger painting.

It’s… sweet. In a confused sort of way—Steve being confused, Billy seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing. They’re just freckles and moles to Steve, it’s not that big a deal. Plus Billy has seen all this before when they were in high school. But Billy leans closer so he can get at all of them, like he has to touch all of them. From Steve’s chest down to his belly and then the tops of his thighs. Well, Billy is missing all the ones on Steve’s back. Plus this isn’t why he’d undressed. Not that it isn’t heartwarming or gives him butterflies to watch Billy so dazed and yet want him so fiercely. The alpha even growls a little when Steve gently knocks his hands away.

“You can touch me all you want when we’re horizontal, buddy,” Steve says around a laugh, already reaching for Billy’s t-shirt to undress him. Billy only fights him a little, glares and huffs when his head is free, hair a mess. Steve has to bat his callused hands away again and chuckle, “You’re only making this process take longer, you know.”

Billy is the one to slap hands away from him when Steve tries to help himself to the alpha’s belt and jeans. Billy shoves him back, nudging him all the way to the tub until Steve’s calves knock into it. He goes laughing and fighting Billy playfully, so familiar with this sort of playground shoving match. Tommy used to do it to him to corral him somewhere private. They’re all so bossy when they want something. But it gives Steve deep amusement to watch Billy glare at him while shoving his jeans off his hips. Also no underwear, but nothing about Billy really surprises Steve anymore. 

Well, okay, everything except that dick Billy has apparently been packing this entire time. You only steal brief, vague glances in the locker room. This is a full-on show. Plus Billy is fucking hard.

Steve’s smugness slips right off his face. Landslides right into blatant desire as Billy kicks off his jeans and stands there with his hands on his hips, much like Steve had. Only Steve wasn’t hard already. Or impressive with that girth and weight that drags his dick down, doesn’t let it stand up straight. Stupid thick and uncut. Steve likes to think his hands are pretty big for a guy. But he wonders with a thrill shivering through him if he’ll be able to touch his middle finger to his thumb while wrapped around Billy. Like he can to himself. A rolled grumble in Billy’s throat snaps Steve’s eyes up from shamelessly ogling. 

The aftershocks of Steve’s shiver stricken his voice when he forces out, “Fuck, I wish you’d won sooner.”

Billy just huffs, grumbles some more, and then resumes shoving at Steve’s shoulders. Get in, hurry up. 

“So bossy,” he murmurs with a roll of doe eyes. “I’m going, I’m going, just lemme get the water hot so we don’t freeze.”

He doesn’t think that’s possible right now. If he were still wearing a shirt, he’d be hot under the collar. And that just conjures the image of thick leather slapped around his neck like he’s seen in porn. Steve swallows hard like it’s real. It’s not something he’s thought of before. It’s a heat-of-the-moment sort of thought. Like his fantasies. Hand wet as he tests the temperature, he can’t help but sneak a glance down and behind him to Billy practically sandwiching them together. A sliver of space separates them where the blushing head of his Billy’s dick bobs just out of range of Steve’s ass. The sight of it sends his incredibly private and embarrassing fantasies rushing to the front of his mind. They badger him even more when Billy inhales deeply the desire Steve soaks into the air between them and twitches between his legs. 

Steve startles at the hands that span his ribs, palms skating around their fluttering cage until each breath rises and falls under Billy’s palms. Billy is hot and alive along his back once more, mindless to the task at hand. Like this, though, Billy finally presses all the space between their skin out and rubs himself on Steve. Just a little bit, just a taste of what they’ll get up to once Billy is up to Steve’s standards. Shoulders climbing into his ears with anticipation, Steve almost wishes he didn’t mind Billy stinking like chlorine from his half-assed shower at the pool. Almost. He’s waited this long, though. What’s a few more minutes?

Billy’s lips are back on his neck with a purr tickling him. They linger for a few, loud breaths from both of them before smearing kisses over pale skin. Something jagged rolls in Billy’s throat as he tries to speak again. The one word he forces out is more growl than language.

“Steve…”

It’s a marvel he can speak at all. Jonathan never can, Tommy not once they’re naked like this. And so Steve forces the butterflies and rocking of his stomach down, down, down, to wheeze, “Y-yea big guy? What’s up?”

Velvety hardness pressed to his ass is all for him. And he knows it in the way Billy grins through another kiss and grinds his voice to add, “Want you.”

That has all his skin coming alive like Billy has put a spell on him. Every inch of him is hyper aware of the alpha, practically sings wherever Billy’s rough hands touch him. Still over his ribs. Maybe Billy’s palm catches the uptick of his heart somehow. Steve has never been so turned on from such few words. Obviously he knows the alphas fighting for him want him. Duh, what would be the point in risking injury over him? But to have Billy fight through the haze of his rut and force some humanity into his voice to drive the point home… 

Steve’s dry hand wanders up to cover one of Billy’s plastered to his ribs. He manages so quietly, “I want you, too…” His thumb pets over Billy’s knuckles that have probably seen more jaws and broken noses than tenderness. It hurts his heart to think that way. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Besides Robin, nobody knows. Not Tommy and Carol, not Dustin, nobody. Truly? He hadn’t thought there would come a time where he would tell Billy. It just didn’t seem possible, even with them fumbling through Billy’s bad courting. Steve just thought… Billy would give up. Would eventually collect the funds he’s saving up and go back to California. They’ve talked about it alone in Steve’s house while combing over it one more time for Solo cups and empties. That’s why Billy holds down two jobs when he can. So he can leave as fast as he can. And each time Steve inquires about his progress, he hates himself more and more for asking. Why torture himself like that? Knowing he has feelings for the alpha but all it would take is a sum of money and poof! Billy would be gone. 

He can’t fight the sourness as the thoughts hound him like they do in moments of insecurity. Or rather when reality cuts through all the bullshit and reminds him nothing between him and Billy is real. So what the alpha sort of fumbles through courting him? Billy could have anyone. Steve is just the flavor of the week—or flavor of a few years, since they’ve been dancing around each other practically since Billy had screamed into town. So the courting probably means nothing. Is just practice for when Billy goes back home, or because Billy is bored, whatever, it doesn’t matter— 

Teeth nip his neck, and then Billy grunts, “Hey.” He has to swallow a few times to speak again, makes sure to grind himself into Steve during the interim. “Cut that… shit out.”

Steve’s eyebrows come together as he blinks at the wall. Steam already rises in the tub, and he lets his wet hand drop. The water is plenty warm for them, now.

“Cut what out? What are you talking about, man?”

Billy just grumbles slightly behind his ear and speaks with his hands instead. The left one with its stupid ring around his middle fingers sweeps up. Those thick fingers brush the dips in Steve’s collarbones where his sadness and regret—regret over wasted time and plans never made—collects in rotten pools. Billy rubs at the scent there, dares even to blanket it with his palm like he’ll wrap his hand around the base of Steve’s throat. That helps snuff it out and turn Steve’s body back towards what they both want to do with it. To seal home what he means, Billy’s right hand peels itself off his ribs and drops the short distance to the slight softness under Steve’s navel. Not fat, not by a long shot, just soft. Soft enough for the alpha to sink his fingertips until Steve practically feels them inside him.

Over Steve’s flinch and choked gasp, Billy huffs, “Better.”

Oh.

Oh… Billy must have meant stop being sad. Stop thinking about whatever's made him sad. Stop being in his head. Despite the weight on the bottom of his throat, Steve turns his head where Billy’s breaths tickle his ear. Like this, he barely catches a blue eye waiting for him. Steve’s balance is precarious with his shins against the tub wall like this. He has to trust Billy when the alpha cranes forward to nuzzle what he can reach of Steve’s face. It’s either trust Billy or flail uselessly in his arms and spill one or both of them to the floor. As much as Steve enjoys a good laugh while fucking, he’d rather not hurt them with his antics. 

Licking his lips and trying for the beginnings of a few sentences, Steve just settles on a pathetic, “Sorry…”

Billy sighs and lets him go. Only so that he can take Steve by the hips and urge him forward, to step over the tub wall and into the spray. Steve goes as Billy bids him, not sure where this is going, but at least it’s a step in the correct direction. He’s more than happy to spin around for Billy when the alpha’s hands coax him to, and then Steve’s back slips over the white tiles of the wall. They’re not warm yet, and a shiver spears through him as his skin takes that chill. He isn’t cold for long, wouldn’t even need the heat of the water to soothe him. Billy yanks the curtain shut behind him and then bears his weight against Steve’s belly and chest. Pinning him but not caging him. His hands are more interested in gliding up and down from the outsides of Steve’s thighs, up to his ribs, and then back down. Over and over again. Petting him.

Steve blurts out a nervous laugh, a single peal, and stutters, “Are-are you cuddling me right now?”

He doesn’t mean for his voice to go high with his uncertainty. It’s not like Billy scares him or is forcing him. Fuck no, the exact opposite! He just… doesn’t know what to do with this. So what he had a tiny mood drop while thinking about never seeing Billy again? Who cares? Just brushing the thought makes him sour a little, and Billy’s warning growl tingles between them. Their hair isn’t even fully wet when Billy surges up that one inch Steve has on him and bites at his mouth. It’s not kissing. Billy is too annoyed with him, glares at him through each press of teeth, for this to be kissing.

Between nibbles, Steve sputters, “You are such a caveman! Stop biting me!”

Billy cracks a grin in his face and husks, “Better,” yet again.

Steve rolls his eyes and drawls, “Yea, yea, I get it. Stop ruining the vibe, I hear you loud and clear.”

Billy barely waits for Steve to finish before sliding their mouths together in real kisses this time. He makes sure to cradle Steve’s bitten lips and lap the phantom press of teeth away. Steve parts at the slightest brush to the seam of his lips and meets Billy for every filthy lick into his mouth. It’s a good thing they already have Steve’s back flush to the wall. Steve slides down the wall maybe an inch or two. Down far enough that when they part with a shaky groan from Steve, his eyes flutter open and have to look up. Their eyes meet, and Steve’s thighs try to snap shut. Honed muscles meet the soft insides of his thighs. Billy presses him that much harder to the wall until his ribs beat against Billy’s chest for every breath.

Billy hums, cocks his head just so, and then purrs, “Better.”

Okay, so he’s definitely hung up on making Steve stop being sad. If being pressed flat to the wall isn’t enough convincing, then Billy’s thigh rubbing between his certainly drives it home. Steve startles on that thigh and ends up grinding on Billy more. His hands fly up to cling to Billy’s back, his shoulder blades. He’ll leave scratches on that honey skin. Hopefully Billy doesn’t mind. 

“So not fair,” Steve groans, not even stopping the back and forth roll of his hips as he grinds on Billy. “Stop cheating and wash up, you prick, we’re not fucking until you smell like something other than the bottom of the pool.”

Billy’s upper lip twitches again, the alpha in him rebelling against being told what to do. But he still rocks his weight off Steve, snatches a bottle from the wire rack under the showerhead, and shoves it into Steve’s chest. It’s shampoo, what luck, and Billy glares at him while Steve glances back and forth between the bottle and him.

“Uhh… Sure, I can wash you, if that’s what you’re trying to say…”

Blue eyes roll, and then Billy turns at the waist to bend his head fully into the stream. He’s a soaked rat in no time, blinking bored as Steve fumbles with the wet shampoo bottle. Billy’s hands find Steve’s ribs again and go back to petting him up and down. It at least keeps Billy’s hands busy and out of the way to let Steve work. The sooner they’re squeaky clean, the sooner they can move on to Steve’s bedroom. And Steve’s bed. 

Billy tips his head and leans into Steve's hands so obediently that Steve almost cracks a joke. Just like all the other alphas, Billy is his plaything once the initial rush from the fight passes him. Billy is just the lap dog Steve had thought he would be, grumbling when Steve stops to rinse him and then cuddling right back up to his hands for conditioner. Billy keeps his eyes cracked open for this part even as Steve’s long fingers rub circles into his scalp. He sends the alpha’s head bobbing in his grip, those eyes watching him. And the hands on his waist slip lower and lower, around his back and then over the swell of his ass…

Steve jumps between Billy and the tile wall behind him when those big hands grab his ass for all they’re worth. Not hard, not mean. Just grab him and send him dancing on his tiptoes as Billy hauls them together again. It must be all the touching, the grooming. Steve doesn’t do this with anyone else. Doesn’t need to, just fucks the winning alpha after the fight. Dirt and scuffed knuckles and all. Steve’s slick hands slap to Billy’s shoulders for purchase. He almost groans and lets his eyes roll back at the bunching and relaxing of muscles under that skin. But Billy hiking Steve tight to his body and then slipping the fingers of his left hand between pert cheeks sort of steals Steve’s thunder.

“H-hey now!” Steve squirms against Billy, but that only opens him up for the thick pads of fingers that reach for his entrance. Steve’s skin whines against the tiles as he flinches. “Jesus, you guys really do have one-track minds, fuck…”

Billy purrs thick and heavy against him at the word, exactly what his rut-addled brain has in mind. Steve’s wiggling doesn’t deter him. Billy strains that much harder to rub his fingers where Steve wants them. That and more.

“Again,” Steve laughs through a shudder, “you are the one prolonging this shower, buddy. If you kept your hands to yourself for a damn sec—oh fuck…”

The leverage is what gives Billy the extra reach he needs to almost press inside Steve. Almost. And Steve’s body would welcome him gladly, has been wet ever since the fight started. Even now Steve’s wiggling just rubs them together harder. Like he can shift just so and let Billy’s fingers slip into him. The angle is all wrong, and Billy will strain his wrist this way. Especially with Steve’s weight pinning the joint to the tiles and grinding the delicate bones. Swallowing a breathy sound, Steve gives his best glare despite his pleasure and does pin Billy’s wrist to the wall. With his ass, but anything to slow Billy down so they can just shower and do this somewhere better!

Steve pants through the steam, “Look, I get it. You finally won me and you’re excited and you wanna fuck me, trust me, I get it.” Billy’s chest puffs up against his, and Steve shakes his head with a soft smile. Idiots, the whole lot of them. “But I really do need you to show some restraint and use that brain of yours to finish showering. Ignore your dick for like five more minutes, okay? For me?”

Billy flattens him to the wall again with a groan and desperate, “Want you,” shredding through his garbled vocal chords. 

Steve does him one better and nuzzles him with a trill, kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“That’s great, I’m excited, too.” He has the decency to blush when he catches Billy eyeing him with their cheeks practically touching. “I’m really excited, I promise. Just tough it out with me a little while longer, and then you can do whatever you want to me. Deal?”

It must be the promise of ‘whatever’ that gets Billy to slowly unwind his hands from around Steve’s body. Not that Steve doesn’t miss the attention. Hell, he’d meant what he said about wanting Billy for a long time. He’s not blind. Billy’s a walking asshole, but Steve isn’t blind. He can admit that he wanted Billy for his body when they were teenagers. Wanting Billy’s anything else is more of a recent development. Not until after the bravado and machismo from high school melted, Billy’s home life improved, and the alpha started actually caring about shit. His car, his jobs, his relationships. Steve doesn’t know what flipped the switch in Billy. Maybe he’ll never know. But now Billy cares about things, and Steve wants Billy to care about him.

He’s in the middle of washing with his back to Billy—trusting—when the alpha’s weight leans on him again. Steve had left Billy with a soapy rag to wash himself, doesn’t doubt the alpha could be done already. But when Steve shuffles around and spits water off his lips, he finds Billy with the rag still in his hand. Leaning up to close the gap between them, Billy just mouths a slow kiss to his lips. Just the one, and then he shuffles away again, holds Steve’s wide stare as he goes back to washing himself. 

“Wha-you… Did you just wanna kiss me?”

Another handsy moment with the alpha wouldn’t have surprised Steve at all. That’s what he’d thought he was turning around to. To bat Billy’s hands away and remind Billy what their ultimate goal is. One-track mind. But for Billy to just lean up like that for one kiss… Steve isn’t sure what to make of that. And Billy looking away and giving a vague shrug doesn’t help. Coyness on Billy is like a smile on a cat. It requires a double take and to trust what the eyes see is real. Steve sucks down a tingly breath and forces his butterflies down.

“That’s fine… You want another?”

Blue eyes zip right over to him, hopeful and honest. Like he thought Steve would yell at him or something. Steve shuffles closer and is the one to cup a jaw and lead them into it. Billy hums against him with slivers of sapphires watching him until Steve has to close his eyes. He’s never been any good at keeping them open. Either too embarrassed or too lost in the moment. Even lapping into each other, tongues chasing, Billy keeps it together to watch him the whole time. Steve’s face is decently heated when he nudges the alpha away.

“O-okay, that’s enough. That better hold you over until we’re done in here.”

Billy huffs, looks rather proud of himself after a glance down Steve’s soaked body, and then goes on washing. Smug about it, but he does as he’s told. His tenderness helps hold Steve over, to be honest. Because of course he’s still hot and bothered, is still looking forward to them moving this to a dryer, flatter location. There’s just something about Billy setting aside his thorns and letting someone feel his petals. Steve stares at Billy through the spray and steam, wanting to pick him apart and figure out why him. Why let Steve in and why want him so badly? Steve can’t make much sense of his own feelings on the matter, but he bets Billy knows the exact moment he began to feel more. Billy is just confident like that. 

Billy even behaves when they pile out of the tub to dry themselves. He startles Steve only once—with the omega’s back to him, towel draped over Billy’s hands and reaching for Steve’s hair. Steve spooks with the shadow cupping around his peripheral vision. Billy is all warm and insistent behind and slightly left of Steve, though. So even though Steve laughs lightly and tries to nudge Billy away with his hip, the alpha’s hands remain in his hair. Not ruffling it dry like Steve had feared at the first notion of intent. No, Billy squeezes water from Steve’s hair in bunches until the strands are just damp to the touch. A word of thanks on his lips, Steve just stands there and stares while Billy repeats the motions on himself. Ah, that’s where his gentleness comes from. Still, Billy could have been mean about it.

When they’re done, Billy yanks Steve’s towel out of his hands and throws both on the floor. Later. Any and all messes, distractions can be addressed later. Billy doesn’t need any prompting to take Steve’s hand and lead him across the hall to the omega’s room. They don’t bother with closing the door. Who will walk in on them? Steve steps past his own threshold with his teeth in his lip, excited and hungry for whatever may come next. He wouldn’t mind Billy picking him up like wicker furniture and tossing him around. Billy could do it without straining, or at least Steve likes to think so. So when Steve spins around on a heel and meets those intense eyes already staring him down, he’s ready for anything.


	4. Billy "Wild Card" Hargrove Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks, another story completed. If you enjoyed the ride, **slap a comment down there.** Show your friends lol. I've got a few more Harringrove stories on my profile, give that ol username a click and browse for a while, whatever.
> 
> The plan for the next five weeks (maybe more, I have two more one-shots to write) is to publish what I've been referring to as my """bad""" ABO one-shots. They'll be in a series, although completely unrelated in plot, characterization, or themes. The series is called "Tilted" because I'm sure more than a few fans of this ship are going to get pissed off. Don't give a fuck, keep scrolling lol. Nobody is holding you down and forcing this into your eyeballs. Anyway, posting is scheduled to start next week. I have five right now and two more on the way. I'm desperate to finish my next chapter'd fic before I start any more one-shots. Although truth be told, I'd like to have one more one-shot finished before I start posting them? So these plans are all tentative at best. If you've enjoyed my content up to this point, it was nice interacting with you and providing you with entertainment while it lasted lol. For those few who will be continuing on to our final destination, I'd like to extend my warmest of welcomes into the pit of hell. I finally get to share the twisted things I like to write. Feels good to work that muscle again. 
> 
> [@missraygillette](https://twitter.com/missraygillette) I tweet about things I'm working on. Come love these stupid boys with me.

Billy coaxing him with a smoldering stare and big hands on his hips is a welcomed surprise. No snapping teeth, no growling, no bullying. Billy knows Steve wants this, knows he doesn’t have to twist the omega’s arm to get what he wants, too. Steve bites back a laugh as he allows Billy to guide them over the duvet, kicking it aside to free it. They settle at the headboard in Steve’s rather pathetic excuse for a nest. He’s not good at it, actually prefers to fuck the winning alphas somewhere other than his bed. Mostly so he doesn’t get their stink in his sheets and have to air out his room once they’re done with him. He’d wanted this to happen here, though. He wants to roll around and smell Billy long after the alpha’s senses have returned… Because maybe Billy will avoid him after this and pretend like nothing happened.

The cold tip of a nose nuzzles along his jaw, Billy propped up above him with his hands caging Steve’s head. There’s no weight, yet. Not yet a repeat of Billy flattening him to the Camaro’s hood outside. Steve wouldn’t mind that again, but he’ll take Billy’s timid comfort instead. Plus if Billy lies down on top of him, then it will take some convincing to get the alpha to shuffle down and move on to… better things. Steve is done cuddling and playing around. He’s waited literally years for this. They can cuddle and love on each other afterwards—for as long as Billy will allow Steve to cling to him. For now, Steve will set a fire under all that desire racing in Billy’s blood, in his skin. He has all his tricks waiting up his sleeve.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Steve breathes against Billy’s jaw, nuzzling him, too. He reaches with sure hands for the alpha’s broad back and pets him up and down. “You know I’m safe, nobody would dare come in here and hurt me while you’re here, yea? You’d protect me, wouldn’t you?”

Billy almost sinks down to crush him. Almost. The tremor in Billy’s arms that wants to lower him shivers under Steve’s hands. Hmm, just a bit more, then. Just a little more simpering sweetness in Billy’s ear to turn the tides Steve’s way. Already the alpha sinks his teeth into the corner of his own mouth to hold in some sound—a growl, a whine, something. Steve offers Billy a soft smile when he finds the strength to crack open an eye and blink down at him. 

Sighing under Billy, Steve sort of wiggles and arches to be nearer to his warmth. He pouts up at the alpha when Billy just sits there, watching him.

“Aren’t you gonna touch me, big guy? You’re so tense, come on.” Steve slips a hand from Billy’s back to cradle his jaw, fingertips rubbing the hinge to help him relax. “I know you wanna make me feel good, and I’ll be good for you, too. Don’t be shy.”

He can’t imagine Billy being shy. Not even Billy as a little pipsqueak. So why is he so tense he’s a rubber band about to snap? He’d been so eager with his hands in the shower, outside… Steve hums and frowns as he considers the wide berth between their bodies. Speeding this up was part of Steve’s plan from the get-go, but now he’s not so sure. Billy’s hesitation wants to derail Steve’s typical control over the situation. Billy will not be so easily coaxed like the others. It’s not working. Frowning harder, Steve regards Billy again and finds his expression just as pinched as before. And his jaw isn’t any less relaxed.

“Hey,” Steve coos all soft, his voice real and lacking any of that cloying honey. “Billy, it’s fine, like you know I want this. I told you I wanted you to win.” He flicks an eyebrow up despite the heat creeping into his cheeks. “And I know you can smell me. So why the hesitation? What’s up?”

It could be Billy is… nervous? For some reason? Steve almost wants to bark in laughter at that. Sex on legs? Nervous about fucking him? Get real. It must be something else. Maybe he’s holding back out of fear of being too rough? That’s more plausible to Steve than the former. Steve wiggles some more to find a comfortable spot in his mattress. Glancing down, he eyes Billy’s knees straddling his hips. It’s a tight squeeze to bend his legs between them and then hike them up on the alpha’s firm body. The first graze of the insides of Steve’s knees hugging him jars Billy. His flinch shakes them and the bed, but Steve steadies him with a light laugh and both hands on Billy’s shoulders.

“Take it easy, I just wanna touch you.” And Steve does, squeezing the tension he finds in Billy’s shoulders. They relax, if minutely, the longer Steve touches him. Hmm. Touch starved maybe? “Yea, that’s it. No sweat, right? It’s just you and me, big guy, I’m all yours. Don’t my legs feel good around you?”

He squeezes Billy’s hips at that moment and sucks in the shuddered breath Billy exhales. Steve holds and holds until a tremor shakes Billy. Something has to give. Steve tips the scales when he hums so pleased in his throat and blankets the base of Billy’s throat with his hands. No pressure, just letting the alpha feel him. That rips the rug out from under Billy, and his knees buckle. They slide, and Billy’s weight punches Steve right in the gut. Tit for tat, really. 

Steve scrambles at Billy’s hair when the alpha lands on top of him. He doesn’t mean to pull, panicked instincts just telling him to hold on. Arms and legs wormed around Billy, Steve certainly isn’t going anywhere. And neither is Billy with the alpha’s face tucked to his neck again. Steve strains for a breath under Billy’s barrel chest and stares sideways at the arms that circle around his hair. Swallowing hard, Steve shakes a hand free only to draw his palm over a freckled shoulder, down Billy’s dumb tattoo, and then all the way to his wrist. And then back up, over and over, up and down. 

“See?” Steve wheezes a little. “I’m not going anywhere. You feel uh… good on top of me.”

It’s so lame that Steve almost starts sputtering and laughing through it. Billy’s breaths are calm, huge things in his neck. Breathing Steve in until surely his nose and mouth are clogged with the omega’s scent. Otherwise, he doesn’t move. So Steve keeps it up with his hands in Billy’s hair, one shaking free to rasp up and down his back again. Billy huffs in his neck, an inpatient noise, and Steve snorts right back. Billy relaxes again only when both of Steve’s hands busy themselves with his hair. It’s drier by his neck. Still damp in the length, though. Silky all over.

The longer Steve lies under that secure weight and just pets and scratches the alpha, the more he’s sure Billy is just touch starved. He combs over his years of memories of the alpha, searching for the common thread of distance. Sure Billy is quick to put his hands on people. To fight and intimidate. There’s a story there. Practiced violence, not quite rehearsed. Reenacted. Billy is intensely private, though, so Steve isn’t sure what the truth is. The violence between Steve’s parents is more of the bickering and distrustful sort rather than broken plates and bruises. But beyond those moments of confrontation… does Billy ever actually touch people? They certainly don’t touch him…

Steve doesn’t let himself sour, though. They’ll just be right back at square one with Billy upset or annoyed at him for the mood drop. Huffing despite the weight pinning him, Steve turns his head to mouth along Billy’s jaw. It’s prickly with stubble. Billy probably has to shave every day to keep his cheeks and neck bare like this. Steve doesn’t mind, just kisses and nuzzles whatever he can reach. He blankets the curve of that jaw once, is about to make a second pass, when Billy shifts on top of him. Down Steve’s torso and somehow closer until Billy can kiss him back. He does so almost shyly. Like the kiss in the shower that had surprised Steve so much. Like Billy isn’t sure if this is okay. Steve could laugh himself breathless over it—how Billy isn’t anything Steve had thought he would be.

Caught up in his private comedy, Steve pays no mind to Billy wiggling farther down his body. His heavy head is level with the center of Steve’s chest and the hair growing between his pecs. He’d like it to come in thicker, honestly, but he suspects the birth control he’s on fucks with his hormones too much. Makes him too soft and just reinforces that stereotype. It wouldn’t surprise Steve at all if there’s some truth to it. He startles all the same when Billy breathes on him and settles a kiss in the dead center of his chest. Resting there, blue eyes remain shut even as Steve throws a wide-eyed stare down the short distance. The dark fan of Billy’s eyelashes remain on his cheeks as he presses meandering kisses wherever the desire strikes. Steve can’t help the arch of his chest off the bed when boyish lips wander closer and closer to a nipple. They’re still distantly sore from him touching them earlier, always more sensitive around rutting alphas.

A hum tickles him, Billy’s lips relaxed where they caress across the plane of his chest. They stop torturous and teasing just beside a tingling peak. Steve exhales hard as he watches enraptured, having waited for this exact thing forever. Since Billy had come charging out of the Camaro, since the first fight Billy showed up to, since the first time they made eye contact across the high school parking lot. He’s wanted Billy on him in some capacity since then. Steve finally gets it with electric eyes batting open to stare up at him when that devilish tongue flicks out.

Steve’s next breath shreds through his teeth with a strained, “Fuck,” tagging along. Billy gives him a low groan back as he laps that rosy bud from soft shyness to fully hard. He nuzzles kisses against it and over it before turning the pressure up. The roughness of one of his hands, the other sort of propping him up, doesn’t leave the other nipple lonely. Steve writhes and snaps on his back with Billy’s weight trapping him. Of course he wants to be trapped, loves bucking against Billy’s weight and knowing he’s not strong enough to dethrone the alpha. So his chest and all his sensitive skin are Billy’s to play with. Steve throws a desperate groan to the ceiling when Billy blows cool air over him and then drags messy kisses to do the same to the other nipple. Steve is finally warm and squirming like he was against the Camaro earlier. No more sadness, only this pleasure Billy gives to him.

Suckling pressure, harder and more aggressive this time, shocks Steve’s hands back to life. They’d rested dormant and dumb in his sheets but now fly as fast as they can to Billy’s hair. Holding Billy earns him a deeper groan vibrating all around his poor nipple, and Steve writhes harder under Billy. Seeking more, demanding more, something, anything! They’ve gone so slow, making glaciers raise an eyebrow at their slowness, and now he can’t get enough of just this. It should be embarrassing how much he enjoys this. Luckily, Steve doesn’t have the mind to excuse his curling moans and how he arches his chest into Billy’s mouth. It just feels good, better with Billy than anyone else, and he just accepts it.

“Oh god,” he breathes with his head thrown back. “More, more, come on, touch me more!”

Billy obliges him, although only just. He bears his weight down on Steve to free both hands. One has already traded with his mouth and fondles all of the softness in Steve’s chest. Again, he blames the close proximity to rutting alphas that make his nipples puffy and chest tender. Billy at least shows him some mercy and keeps his fondling so careful. None of the roughness Steve has toyed with wanting from Billy—like Jonathan and Tommy.

And that’s not to say this slow loving doesn’t excite Steve. No, no, he’s buzzing and half-hard under Billy just from this. More so when Billy’s free hand wanders down, gets him under a knee, and then draws that leg up. Steve plays along and rests his foot flat on the bed to keep his leg up. His inner thigh is all for Billy to caress and squeeze. His calluses graze Steve’s skin and make him shiver—just as delicious as he knew it’d be.

Steve gives a roll of his hips under Billy, tosses his head the other way, and pants, “Come on, I want you.” He whines and strains when Billy just blinks up at him, pink tongue peeking out to lap at him again. Steve strains all the harder and dares to rub himself on whatever toned muscle he can get at. “I know you want me, don't you wanna show me what you got? That you’re better than Jonathan and Tommy and all the rest?”

Boyish lips frown against his chest, and Billy shifts his head to sink his teeth into Steve instead. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to let him know he’s being cheeky. It won’t stop him, though. 

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Steve laments to the empty air above him. He can’t watch Billy on top of him with those wild eyes waiting. It’s too much. More so when Billy hums and slips down his body. Perfect. “I think about you a lot when I’m with the other alpha. I almost yelled your name instead a few times.”

That brings delicious weight heavy between his legs. Steve’s thighs try to snap around Billy’s torso, but the alpha still has a solid grip behind one of those knees. So all that fight joins the snap of Steve’s hips instead. He’d rather come full on knot than rut against Billy’s chest, but beggars can’t be choosers. Billy denies him, though, and flattens Steve to his mattress once more. When Steve dares to writhe anyway, Billy sinks his teeth into Steve’s flat belly. Hard enough to pinch and zap bolts of fear and arousal straight to his dick. There’s no telling what those jaws may do. Steve has certainly entertained fantasies.

All that bulk behind him, pinning him down exactly like this. A knot bullying its way inside him even if he isn’t ready, even if Billy hadn’t been fucking him for too long. And the alpha holding him down with twin jaws of nails and teeth in his neck. Any sound he could make would flow right back into his alpha’s mouth. All for him.

Shuddering hard, Steve gasps, “Fuck,” and goes boneless in the bed. Billy isn’t even above him anymore, but Steve bares his throat anyway. A tongue laps at the red indents in his belly, and Steve breathes, “Billy…”

This isn’t at all how Steve had thought this would go. Usually? He’s in control. Sure, the winning alpha may rough him up and pop a knot in him. But Steve could end everything at a moment’s notice. And the alpha would have no choice but to obey, his instinct to protect so heightened during his rut. Hell, if Steve wanted, he could mark the alphas in such a way that would taint them for any omega in the future. A sort of warning to his kin, beware. Steve doesn’t even have to declare a winner if no true one rises triumphant. So to splay out like this and mewl and pant Billy’s name and they’ve done nothing… 

Steve’s hands tremble like autumn leaves when they lift in search of the alpha’s drying hair. He has to touch Billy now or he might fall apart. Billy growls just under his navel at the first graze of fingers. But Steve appeals to the possession lying in wait in those jaws. An appeal that he’s Billy’s, that no other alpha can have him, that Steve just wants to nurture him, too. It’s entirely possible Billy has never heard the noise before—the exact opposite of an alpha command. An omega submission. For an alpha’s consideration. A suggestion of a desire they need fulfilled. Where an alpha may command an omega to be still and calm to reduce their distress, and omega may bid their alpha to tune into only them to avoid violence. Steve only ever had to use it once. The first time Jonathan won him. To save Tommy, because it was the first time Tommy lost.

Long fingers diving into Billy’s hair, Steve sends the subtle suggestion that Billy focus on him. How his skin feels and smells. How he doesn’t smell enough like Billy, like his, and that Billy should fix that. It’d worked on Jonathan and works tried and true now. The slight prick of Billy’s facial hair from his cheeks and neck will probably leave Steve red. Billy shoves his caught leg higher and wider. It leaves him open for Billy to bite kisses out of him all the way to his hiked thigh. It’s sweet and sour, Billy’s soft curls caressing him while alpha fangs test the resistance of his skin. Not to mark, not in that way. Just to bruise.

“Oh god, do it, fucking bite me.” Steve rebels against Billy’s grip behind his knee, sending his delicate, inner thigh tight to fangs. “Wanna feel your teeth in me, alpha!”

And although Billy’s sharp teeth pierce his thigh, the phantom sting of those fangs sinks all the way to Steve’s center. It’s only because of the broad bulk of Billy’s shoulders that Steve’s free thigh doesn’t box him right in the ear. It’s too much of a liability. Billy’s knees sink deeper into the bed when he gets them under him. Steve startles hard, heart ping ponging around inside him, when the alpha snatches up his other thigh, too. Before Steve gets an indignant squeak out, Billy sits them up, up, up until Steve bends in half or breaks. His ass is practically in the air if not for Billy hovering directly above him. Already, Steve’s bitten thigh thrums with his thundering heartbeat.

Only now, uncovered and with his dick pointed up his stomach thanks to Billy, Steve finally sees the evidence of his attraction. He’s always known he wanted Billy’s body. But to see himself respond like he would to a fantasy, only Billy is here and they stare together at the blushing, wet head of his dick… Steve wiggles in the grips on the backs of his thighs and trills softly. Look at me, look at what you did to me, take responsibility and make me yours! Billy’s eyes actually flutter and roll back in his head. He has to tilt his head back with a deep exhale or waver on his knees. At Steve’s thighs, Billy grips him hard enough to bleach their skin of color.

Red creeping into Steve’s cheeks and all up his throat, he whines through a breath, “Billy, what are you doing to me?” He throws his head away despite their close quarters and his thighs almost in his chest. “Fuck, I need you so bad, touch me you jerk. Jesus, you know how bad I want you?!”

Billy shuffles that much closer on his knees, and his mouth sinks back to the bite wound in Steve’s thigh. The bite isn’t that deep. It will ache and scab over a little. Just inside the indents where Billy’s teeth had been. It will hurt to sit and climb in and out of his car, but Steve doesn’t care as Billy laps warm and lovingly over them. It’s not an apology. Billy only means to soothe and comfort. They both know he wouldn’t mean any word of remorse. 

An amber eye cracks open despite the heat simmering in Steve’s cheeks. Their positions are rather lewd. Or at least his is with Billy forcing him in half like this, knees practically in his ears. Staying limber has never steered him wrong. And with Billy’s mouth growing bored with kissing the bite mark, he wanders. He wanders, and the haze in Steve’s head connects the dots for him. His desire is potent enough to lend him the phantom sensation of Billy’s warmth sinking down, the alpha’s tongue darting out to tease something else. No one’s eaten him out in a while, a favorite pastime of Jonathan’s. Could he entice Billy to do the same?

Billy doesn’t growl this time when Steve threads a slim hand up to pet his curls. Steve twists his fingers around and around a lock, tangling it up, and gives a light tug. Another suggestion. Pretty please, he begs with big eyes and his bottom lip a little fat. He watches Billy’s resolve crumble, and those falling bits are just more fuel for the desire burning in Steve. He almost can’t remember which of them is more aflame—alpha ruts just do this to him. And he’s waited for so long to pout and plead and coax Billy right where he wants him. Steve doesn’t even need to gesture or say anything. The shiny slick between his cheeks steals the blue spotlight from Steve’s face. A small mercy.

Panting a little, Steve teases, “Look at what you did to me. It’s mmm all for you, bud. Get an eyeful.”

It’s invitation enough for Billy’s hands. They come sliding down the hairy backs of Steve’s thighs, fingers petting over downy hair and moles under that. Steve balances his weight when his stability shakes, Billy’s hands grabbing him by the ass and no longer supporting his legs. Fingers trembling with how fast his blood rushes around, Steve slips his hand free of Billy’s hair. He needs both to grab himself behind his knees to keep his balance. He won’t tip over now with his hands steadying his legs and Billy kneeling almost under his ass. Steve blinks hot eyes down the curve of his body to where Billy stares at all the desire he has to offer. It should embarrass Steve, but the fog in his head feeding off all the alpha hormones around him doesn’t allow it. He just needs one thing right now.

“Like what you see? How wet I am for you?”

A breath. A nod.

Steve wiggles to draw Billy’s attention back down.

“Want some more?” Steve takes Billy’s rough exhale and shudder as a yes. It’s best if he gently leads Billy to what they both want. Even if Billy doesn’t fully recognize it. “Been a while since an alpha spoiled me.” Steve bites his bottom lip all coy, turns his head just so. “Almost forget what it feels like to have one of you eat me out…”

‘Bet you could fix that,’ remains unspoken. Steve doesn’t need to say it. He submits it for Billy’s consideration, tickling the notion just under his nose until he breathes it in and makes it his own. Steve has a moment to enjoy his surge of pride for wooing Billy so smoothly. Those dopey sapphires tell him the instant Billy gives in to him. He only savors his pride for a breath or two, though, because those wild eyes are on him for the first, long lap over his hole. Just the one flick of tongue through slick and teasing his rim before Steve’s eyes slam shut. They have to. He can’t stare down at Billy and see himself in the alpha’s eyes. It’s too much.

Instead he whimpers, “Oh god,” and holds the backs of his knees tighter.

Billy’s hands squeeze pert cheek and thumb him that much wider open. Steve can block the lewd display of his body and Billy lapping his desire from the source. But he can’t block the assault on his blushing ears—the slick glide of that tongue curling over his hole again and again, sometimes lingering for a few stabs. Those send fresh jolts of interest to his cock. Billy won’t go soft until he’s come a few times, but Steve has without pressure or attention. Billy’s tongue will help keep him warm, will keep him humming just under his skin and ready for touch. Steve shivers, excited for anything, when Billy’s hands slide up the backs of his thighs. Not far enough to drop him, only far enough to gently pet Steve back and forth.

“Fuck yea,” Steve breathes, hips shaking to follow a rhythm with Billy. He’s not content to let Steve get used to anything. It’s wide laps, short and long ones, sometimes fighting Steve’s wet resistance to try and slip in. Variety. Steve coos and jumps at it all, quivering. “Jesus I want you in me so bad, Billy! Fuck, fuck, need your tongue, fingers, anything god damnit, please…”

Billy’s answer is a sliver of a grin and a deep hum against his ass. The powerful hands petting Steve up and down grip the backs of his thighs to stop him from wiggling. Steve welcomes it, welcomes Billy finally grabbing him and showing him an edge of bossy control. Like Jonathan shoving him down to the bed or Tommy bullying him into an empty classroom. Herding him. Toes curling in the air, Steve has nowhere to go when Billy does actually try to slip his tongue inside. Steve snatches his bottom lip in his teeth to withhold the tremble in his face. It feels too good to lie here stony and deny Billy his reaction. Breaths coming harder and more frantic all the time, Steve leaves his mouth open for all manner of desperate moans and rambling pleas for more.

Maybe it eggs Billy on. Billy is always running his mouth in his day-to-day life. If not for his rut, Steve suspects he’d be writing checks with his mouth here, too. Probably the sort of dirty talk that’s obnoxious. Steve almost rolls his eyes at what his imagination conjures up. Luckily for him, his resistance failing and Billy slipping just barely inside him is enough to distract. With Steve’s body folded like this, it’s a tight squeeze to throw his head back and shoot breathy, needy sounds at the headboard. His voice goes all high and crumbly in his throat, but he doesn’t care. Each dart of tongue, each swipe over his buzzing rim turns the heat up behind his navel. He needs more, needs that ridiculous, fat dick in him forever ago.

Risking it all, Steve throws a weak hand down and pats around blindly, looking for soft curls. He finds them and paws at them, gives a lock a tug when Billy is just content to waggle his head and shove his tongue deeper. Steve’s toes give another threatening curl. This isn’t enough to make him come—maybe while he’s in heat, sure—but it certainly greases the wheels and gets them turning again. Steve bucks as best he can with Billy’s hands still holding him down. Huffing and whining and pouting, anything to get the alpha’s attention. He almost regrets it when blue eyes crack open, only the slivers of cut sapphire visible. Steve keeps his pitiful look up despite wanting to blush and hide from Billy’s intense stare.

“I need you,” he pants. “Hurry, come on, I’m ready for you. Doesn’t-doesn’t it hurt? To not be in me?”

Blue eyes flutter shut, and Billy takes to flicking little kitten licks over his buzzing rim. The wet glide of skin on skin is too obscene in Steve’s burning ears, so he mewls over it. The desperation in Steve’s strained voice must chip away at Billy’s resolve. That or he’s just being an obstinate bastard, which tracks. Steve almost lets out a sob of relief when Billy sits back and guides Steve’s body flat to the bed once more. His sides and belly sort of ache from holding the position for so long and writhing against Billy’s hands. He’ll have more of a work out once Billy decides how he wants to fuck Steve. So Steve hums with his eyes closed and cracks one open when warm hands just nudge his thighs apart. Instead of flipping him around or manhandling him.

Blinking blurry up at Billy hovering just above him, Steve mumbles out the side of his mouth, “Missionary? Really?”

Billy’s lips roll into a frown and he… looks away with a huff. His face already hosts a healthy flush—not unaffected by Steve and his body—but it darkens all the more. It’s… strangely adorable.

Steve shuffles his shoulders in the bed, stretching a little, and sighs, “Not that I’m complaining. Makes for good cuddling until your knot goes down.”

Billy’s expression crumbles a little. Upset. His own stomach flopping at his misstep, Steve sputters and tries to think of something else to say. He hadn’t meant it to sound like he wants this over as soon as possible. Their comfort when they’re locked together is always a nagging thought whenever he fucks the winner. Being stuck in an uncomfortable position for any length of time sucks, more so with another person in intimate, close proximity. So when Billy huffs and sweeps down for his face, Steve doesn’t put up a fight. Billy doesn’t lie on top of him like before, no, he just angles his head for a kiss. He leaves plenty of time for Steve to deny him, but Steve lifts his chin to meet Billy instead. Regret washes over him at the taste of his own slick on Billy’s tongue.

As gently as possible, he nudges the alpha back and mutters, “Okay, gonna try to not think about where your mouth just was…” Clearing his throat, he sits up enough to kiss Billy’s cheek instead. “What, you just wanna fuck face to face? Is that what you mean?”

He suspects very much that Billy wants to watch him the whole time, but he doesn’t mention that. However Billy wants him, they’ll do it that way. Worse comes to worst, he can just give the alpha a suggestion and Billy would be flat on his back, lap occupied, in a few seconds. That could be fun, the play of power between them, but he’d rather do that with Billy more lucid. Steve wants to watch the indignation bleed into Billy’s expression and watch him struggle to fight how his body obeys an omega without question. If only to tease Billy and give him a taste of his own medicine. Steve hums and smiles at the thought now. Nuzzling Steve’s jaw with a grumble, Billy is none the wiser.

Long fingers in Billy’s hair to keep him close, Steve smirks against his ear and murmurs, “Make sure you keep your eyes open when you pop that knot in me, okay, big guy?”

A wild shiver runs through Billy. Every inch of him above Steve shifts to work the energy out. To chase it out on the heels of Steve’s thick voice drawing nails up and down his back. Steve almost ruins it with a smug grin, but he smooths it out when Billy pulls away. He doesn’t sit up yet, no, just draws back to meet Steve’s eyes. Even now, Billy is still strange gentleness and hesitation. Steve could just put his own head through a wall out of frustration. He’s beginning to think maybe, just maybe, this is Billy’s first rut with an omega. It’s outlandish and doesn’t match the image of Billy in Steve’s head. But it’s possible. It’s too bad for Billy that Steve doesn’t feel like playing teacher right now. They’ll make the best of it.

Steve nudges Billy back despite the alpha huffing and grumbling about it. It’s cute when they can’t speak but they clearly want to. Steve smiles in the face of that bossy objection and positions himself how he wants. Billy can make changes if he wants, but Steve knows this game, now. He’ll have to coax the alpha between his legs and lead Billy to what he wants. Should be easy enough. One-track mind and all. So Steve grunts through the ache already in his thighs—that damn bite mark already irritating him—and draws his knees back into his ears like before. It’s a feast for Billy, the whole point of this, and hopefully will be tempting enough to guide the alpha where they both want him. 

“Wanna watch me finger myself until I’m loose for you?”

Steve doubts Billy will last longer than him getting two fingers into himself. He can be rather persuasive when he wants to be. Steve just eats up the way Billy flushes that much darker and nods like he has to remember how. Right hand firm behind his own knee, Steve keeps his eyes somewhere near the center of Billy’s chest while he reaches down with the left. The alpha’s necklace is missing—has it been missing this whole time?—but his honey skin makes for a decent enough focus. Steve doesn’t think about how silly he probably looks with his left hand hovering above his junk as he reaches for his slick rim. Billy doesn’t think he looks stupid. No, the alpha’s hands flex where they rest on his own thighs, already eager to touch. That and Billy’s breaths are so controlled that Steve worries he may pass out. 

So Steve relaxes the rest of his body as best he can, trying to soak the air between them with calm and desire. So Billy will know he’s turned on, that Bill turns him on, and maybe the alpha will chill out a little bit. Steve holds back a snort and a roll of his eyes when he catches sight of a vein about to burst in Billy’s forehead. Poor fucker. Maybe this  **is** his first time rutting with an omega. Hopefully he’s not chewing the inside of his cheek or grinding his teeth. Steve would pull Billy back down and distract that mouth with something else, but he knows Billy wants to watch. Billy cutting off his next breath to stare with full intensity at Steve’s fingers playing with himself is all the sign Steve needs.

Steve makes sure to keep his legs bent and spread wide so Billy can see. The view isn’t as obscene as it could be without a hand on his ass to clear the shot. Steve would release his other leg if he thought he wouldn’t fuck up his balance and go rolling like a turtle. Or accidentally kick Billy in the face. He barely struggles through a few swipes over his hole before Billy helps. Steve already has his teeth bared to snap at Billy to wait his turn. But the alpha’s rough hands just cup his ass and thumb him open like before. So Steve has room. So he can see. Throat winding tight again and skin heating up once more, Steve turns his head as he glides his middle and ring finger inside. He has to close his eyes to Billy, himself, everything. Again, he cannot shut out the sounds.

Barely language, Billy groans above him, “Steve…”

“I’m going, I’m going, hold your horses,” Steve breathes with a little laugh. Not nervous, just embarrassed that Billy probably can’t look away even if he tries. Steve swallows hard, slips out of himself, and then dives back in as deep as his reach allows. Which isn’t deep enough. “It’s gonna be a tight fit with that mmm monster dick of yours. Hope you like it like that.”

It’s easy enough to get into the glide of fingers through and into him. Opening him wider than Billy’s tongue. Steve makes it good for his audience and plays with the slick that wells out of him. Rubbing it around and only darting his fingers just past his tightness, making a mess. It draws out louder, slicker sounds between his cheeks. But the rouge wave of arousal that crashes over him makes up for the heat in Steve’s face. He squeezes little whines out of himself as he strains for a better angle. He just can’t reach like this, doesn’t have the leverage required. 

So when Billy peels a hand away from holding him, wraps thick fingers around his wrist, and helps slam Steve’s into himself, the omega does not object. A surprised yelp tears out of him from the shock alone, and he finally opens and turns his eyes to Billy. The alpha’s crosshairs are on the action, though. Too consumed with watching Steve fuck himself to meet amber eyes that stare wide at him. Like this, with Billy helping to shove his fingers deeper, he finally grazes that spot that makes everything tingle at the edges. 

“F-fuck, fuck, oh god Billy…”

He doesn’t intend for it to be encouragement. Billy takes it that way with a groan, fangs in his lip, and his arm working harder to glide Steve’s fingers in and out. Steve’s voice bleeding into every breath turns fluttery and frantic. They open him together like this, their rhythm only stuttering when Steve wants to jam a third finger into him. With a bead of blood welling up at the corner of his mouth, Billy obliges Steve even this. It’s building between them—the charged thundercloud that’s usually present from the moment he and the winner are alone. He had to seed the cycle and smog up the air a bit. Trigger Billy’s clouds to condense. But they’re here now and blow Steve over when bright blues flick up from the mess they make of him. Their eyes connect with Billy’s strength still behind Steve’s wrist, only now some of the alpha’s loopiness has faded. A shiver runs through Billy and pries the last nail from his lid. When he rebels against the flutter of his eyes, they smolder when they pin Steve down.

More like Billy. More like the strutting alpha he claims to be.

Steve doesn’t even get out a, “Fuck yes,” before Billy is on him.

Billy dragging Steve’s fingers out of himself and then slamming his wrist into the bed happens all too quickly. Steve’s yelp follows so delayed with Billy already in his face. The alpha hovers above him and snatches Steve’s wrists up. Lithe muscles in those arms already know what Billy wants, and Steve works with Billy rather than against him. Slim wrists cross above his head, a familiar pose by now, and Steve arches up to meet Billy hovering above him. Billy manages both of Steve’s wrists in one hand just fine, has room to spare to bear some weight down on him. He’s not going anywhere unless Billy lets him up. Perfect.

“Come on,” Steve taunts while he grins up at the heavy expression threatening to tear him apart. Billy’s game face, most likely. Sort of looks like one of the glares they’d traded just before Billy socked him in the nose. Now, like then, Steve’s body sings with anticipation. “That all you got? One bite and being pushy?” 

Billy’s hand wrapped around Steve’s wrists tightens. A warning.

Steve sends his big eyes rolling and scoffs, “I thought you were gonna show me a good time. Kinda bored right now.” Curling a leg up, Steve slaps his foot on Billy’s hip, daring to knock him from where he kneels against the backs of Steve’s thighs. “You can leave if you’re done. I just thought you were gonna show me what that fat knot feels like, but it’s whatever. Guess Jonathan probably isn’t doing anything right now…”

Ah, that defeat must have left a mark on Billy’s pride. A scratch. A gouge. If Billy had a snout, it would shiver with a snarl. He makes the best with what he has—teeth gnashing and fangs fully out, glaring down at Steve for daring to even breathe another alpha’s name. Steve already has the countdown to Billy’s restraint snapping like a toothpick going in his head. Jonathan had won last time. Beaten Billy so thoroughly and so unexpectedly. At least unexpected to Billy. And it doesn’t take much logic to connect the dots that Jonathan was the last alpha Steve had. The last knot he took. Billy doesn’t know about Tommy taking care of him during his heat, but even then his assumption would still be right. In the end, Tommy couldn’t catch in Steve. So he stayed just to take the edge off. Billy has everything to prove: that he’s a better alpha than Jonathan, that he can treat and care for Steve better. That he can fuck Steve better, too.

Steve’s wrists ache even after Billy tears his hand away. The omega almost wants to clutch the delicate joints to his chest, to rub feeling back into them. Billy grabbing him by the backs of his thighs and hauling them straight to Steve’s chest blocks his path, though. Billy likes to bend him this way, has done it twice now with little prompting from Steve. Biting his lower lip, Steve just braces his hands against his headboard to hold on. If Billy wants to fuck him bent in half like this, then so be it. Steve is ready, has been ready for hours, days, years!

“Do it,” he breathes with his eyes tightly shut, skin shivering where Billy draws blunt fingertips down one of his thighs. Steve knows what comes next, and he rambles, “Want you so fucking bad, come on, come on! I know you want me too, fuck me, oh god Billy, hurry.” His voice breaks over a whine when the blunt head of the alpha’d cock swipes through slick and against his sore rim. If only he could impale himself on it. “Now! Now! I need it now, need you in me, alpha, fill me up and make me forget anyone else, o-oh god Billy!”

He gets his wish with a grunt above him and his body opening under insistent pressure. Steve’s words crumble at the edges and then all at once when Billy slides forward, forward, forward until there’s nothing left. Until the ridiculous, toned muscles of his pelvis are flat against Steve. Steve’s next moan is drawn out over ragged breaths puffing on his neck. Steve makes sure to crane his head as far out of the way as possible. Because the next breath has teeth with it, and Billy sinks those edges into him to catch Steve’s punched-out moan in his jaws. Steve’s body snaps under him, animal brain panicking at being pinned and trapped. But he doesn’t struggle. Steve’s hands remain faithfully crossed above his head. His nails will leave crescent-moon imprints in his palms. But he does not struggle and eventually goes limp under Billy’s fangs. Much like in Steve’s thigh, they make a wet sound when Billy releases him.

Each shift of Steve’s head as Billy picks up a rhythm between his legs irritates that bite mark. And then every inhale and exhale sends the indents burning. Steve’s pulse is in his lips, his damn eyes, and especially in his twin marks courtesy of Billy. They won’t scar. That’s not the point of these wounds. They’re for the other alphas in Steve’s life. So they know Billy has his sights set on Steve and that anyone else will have the fight of their lives to intervene on that claim. Steve wouldn’t dream of welcoming anyone else to mark him like this. Even with his eyes rolling back in his head and embarrassing, high moans whimpering out of him, Steve knows what he wants.

Rasping through his broken voice, Steve grunts, “Harder!”

He cracks an eye open, a glutton for punishment, to see what’s become of the unchained alpha above him. Billy’s hands will leave bruises on Steve’s thighs this time. Lingering ache from Billy’s knot aside, it will hurt to sit in the coming days. He’ll let Robin sit on the stool at Family Video. Steve doesn’t give a shit about that right now as Billy rocks into him and scoots him up the bed. But the omega’s hands already at the headboard catch him.

Steve has some leverage, then, and uses it to roll his body down to meet Billy’s thrusts. They groan as one with Billy’s eyes almost slipping shut again. He holds out, though, clings to his resolve through every second of his deep noise. When Billy collects himself, Steve’s strength almost fails as the alpha holds him down harder and thunders into him faster. Like he’s wanted.

Every soft spot on him shaking, Steve smacks his head into the pillow and nearly shouts, “Like that! F-fuck yes, like that!” Billy shifts on his knees, sinking down, and ends up fucking up and into Steve. He jams the blunt head of his dick fast and filthy over Steve’s sweet spot. “Oh god, oh god, Billy… Mmm, right there, right there, right there…”

He rambles on between Billy snapping his hips hard and popping whimpers out of Steve. His head is full of the alpha—sharing breaths with him, scenting him musky and sweet on the thick air between them, savoring every rumbling moan from him. The springs in Steve’s mattress give enthusiastic squeaks to match his short, breathy moans. He shifts into a rhythm with Billy, their bodies falling out of sync with wavering strength on Steve’s end. But he always picks it back up until they knock the air out of him. Short nails scratch at the headboard, but Steve’s hands do not rise. They want to, call out to the smooth skin of Billy’s upper back. He wants to claw and scratch, to leave angry welts in that honey. Steve forces his eyes open and meets the heavy stare he knows waits for him.

“Need you,” he pleads on beat, to the pounding of Billy into him. “Need this mmm please alpha, please let me touch you, wanna feel you when you-when you fill me up and mmm! And make me take your knot.”

Steve’s shoulders hunch against the bed, rising up to his ears. Shameful words, letting his fantasies out, but whom better than Billy to share them? 

“Make me take every drop, alpha, m-make me yours. Oh god, I wanna lock on your knot so bad!”

All the coiled power in those hips surges into him, pressure hard as steel fucking right into his sweet spot. Billy drops down that much closer, growl chasing the end of a groan, and then Steve’s arms snap around him.

He already has his nails hooked in Billy’s skin when he cries with his voice broken, “So close, oh g-god, fill me up and nmmm breed me, alpha. Oh please, oh fuck hold me down and make me… take your knot every time. Wanna come on your-oh, oh god, Billy I’m—!”

Billy flattens Steve under him when the omega starts to clench tightly around him. Steve’s nails leave the damage behind he’d so wanted, even if he’s mindless to enjoy Billy hissing and snarling. Steve’s legs curl up the moment Billy lets them go to slap both palms into the bed, steadying himself. Every inch of him tingling and alive, Steve strains under all that bulk as he chases the rush of his orgasm. Coming untouched like this is always a pulse of buzzing sensation deep inside him. Steve shakes that much harder through an orgasm like this, needs Billy’s skin under his hands to let him know it’s all real. He holds Billy as close as he can, until their skin drags through sweat and they’re nearly one.

Billy isn’t done with him, though. Mindless to Steve tightening in waves, he bullies the swell of his knot just inside the omega. It’s not full yet, but even squeezing in now pulls desperate whines from Steve. The cock spearing him open is thick, yea, but Billy’s knot makes his head spin and his ears ring. A pout tugs at Steve’s lips even as his voice whines through every breath while he comes. Billy is so mean to him, popping in before he’s done writhing around the alpha’s cock. It’s like Billy bending a hose in half. Cutting off the flow of syrup heavy and thick inside him. He could come again, his orgasm basically doubled, if Billy figures out how to play Steve’s body. Grinding his knot into Steve until it’s full is a good start.

The weight inside him is too much to ignore or pretend it's anything else. Finally. After years of dancing around each other, he’s finally caught on Billy’s knot. Eyes still fluttery and threatening to roll back again at any moment, Steve gives Billy a test squeeze. Just to see what he’ll do. If he’ll bellow out a groan or maybe snap his teeth at Steve for being greedy. Even now, though, Billy refuses to fall into Steve’s expectations. A trill curls out of Steve’s throat when Billy tucks his face in the safety of his neck. The unmarked side. Steve winces as he bends his head the other way, irritating Billy’s mark. But the alpha cuddles right up to him and just breathes hard against his pulse.

“Steve,” he wheezes. He holds the omega that much tighter to his chest, arms slipping under Steve’s sweaty back in the sheets. “Steve, I…”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Steve promises. He doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle Billy’s hair and trill in his ear. “You can make me come again. Don’t you wanna do that to me? Make me come hard again so you hnnn, so you have something tight to fuck.” Straining under Billy’s weight, Steve tips his head up until his lips brush an ear. “Flood me, big guy, I wanna drip when you pop out of me.”

Steve will probably have rug burns on his back. Or the sheet equivalent. Because Billy rests all his weight on Steve while rutting his knot into that stretched hole. Steve sacrifices one hand carving up Billy’s back to slap to the headboard once more. Otherwise, he’ll bang his head on it with every snap of Billy’s hips. Pale thighs tremble where they squeeze Billy’s sides, but Steve just as quickly hooks his legs around the alpha and crosses his ankles above Billy’s ass. He has the leverage, now, to squeeze around Billy in time with the slam of those hips. Billy sinks his teeth into Steve again, although this time it’s to muffle his deep groan into dotted skin. Steve cries with him when the pressure mounts like a landslide screaming down on him. Steve stares at his ceiling for as long as he can as he counts the seconds until his muscles snap and he comes again.

One, two… three…

Billy knocks the wind out of him two more times and then deafens Steve with a shout. Steve gives as good as he gets and turns his head to moan with Billy when he comes again, too. All the weight on top of him shaking to the waves of Billy coming in him helps to choke off Steve’s wail. His thighs tremble and snap that much tighter as he hangs on and rides the surging waves of his body around Billy. A shiver tingles in the small of his back and then spreads like ripples. He hopes Billy is pent up and comes a lot, making a mess he’ll probably just fuck through. Steve already knows, even with his head still spinning from his second orgasm, that this won’t be enough for Billy. His knot will go down enough for them to unlock. But Billy will need him again. Good thing they have this empty house all to themselves for the weekend.

Steve has to try a few times to gather his voice and enough air to coo, “Billy, that was… Mmm, that was fucking incredible. You still with me?”

Billy just goes right on breathing on top of him, body practically vibrating from how satisfied he is. Steve smiles in sandy curls and tightens his embrace just for a second. Enough to shift where they’re locked and draw twin moans out of them. It’s entirely too early to start wiggling, and Billy nips him to get him to settle down. When Steve dares to rebel, grinning in Billy’s hair, the alpha’s hips pop hard against his ass. He has to convince Steve this fight is unwinnable with a few more thrusts. Steve only stops because his hips shake and threaten to give out. He can’t come again, he can’t, not so soon. The whine that curls out of him when Billy slips a hand between them, pawing at the drool of come around his dick, is a pathetic thing.

“N-no, no more,” Steve pants to the ceiling. But he makes no move to stop Billy, actually clings harder to him, and the rough fist around him keeps stroking. Steve smiles and hums through his next plea, “No! No alpha, please, I can’t, I can’t come again, please don’t-please don’t make me!”

But Steve rocks his body as best he can trapped under Billy to match the consistent strokes over his flesh. Billy’s skin on him is more of a concept than Steve actually feeling it. All his nerves between his legs are rubbed raw, almost freezing like someone slides an ice cube all over his dick. He flinches away, but with Billy’s full weight on top of him, it’s more like a twitch. Breaths frantic and coming faster and faster, Steve’s desperation works itself out through his body. Jumping and flinching, craning his hips up to thrust with Billy but then just as quickly shying away. But Billy doesn’t let up. The heaviness of his knot inside him, full and stretched wide how Steve likes, adds pressure to his prostate. Little nudges, just barely hitting him. His stomach drops, something kicking inside him, the longer he grinds on Billy’s knot. It’s enough to make him scream and carve more welts into Billy’s back.

With the first jump of muscles above his cock, forcing him to come again, Steve cries, “Oh god! Oh g-god, Billy please!”

When Steve loses his words, he just croons long, drawn-out moans in Billy’s ear. They slow and quiet only when Steve’s orgasm winds all the way down. Still, he fights the tremor in his body to nuzzle soft curls and trill to his alpha. Billy shifts his head to nose at the soft spot under Steve’s ear. They stink of each other and choke the room with what they’ve done. Steve groans through Billy shifting on top of him and knows they’re not done. Well, Billy isn’t done. Hopefully the alpha doesn’t mind fucking him while passed out. Steve can’t see Billy having hang ups about that and so forces a dopey eye open to look around. If he turns his head slightly to the right, he can see the side of Billy’s head. Not watching him yet, but Steve bets those eyes will open and catch him.

They do just as Steve knew they would, and Steve is ready with a sloppy grin.

“Jerk,” he laughs. “Can’t believe you made me come three times. Guess I asked for it, huh?”

Tired eyes blink slowly at him. A hum tickles his jaw, and then Billy hides his face again. Despite how overheated Steve is trapped under him, his neck glows with extra heat from Billy’s face. Now he turns shy! It’s so ridiculous that a laugh pops out of Steve. Another. And another until his belly rolls with them as he cuddles Billy impossibly closer. 

Steve teases in a red ear, “Awww, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Who woulda thought I’d make you blush? Jesus Christ…”

He trails off with more laughter. None of it mocking, no. The affection he has for Billy that was lurking all along surges now. Steve noses curls out of his way to find skin, to find that heat that’s all for him, and presses soft kisses wherever he can reach. Billy huffs against his jaw and leans his head away. He’s… almost pouting.

“Stop,” he grumbles, avoiding Steve’s eyes and kisses.

He’s not out of range despite Steve’s body pleading with him to stop fucking moving around. Billy’s knot should go down any second now, but while it’s still locked in him…

Shuddering hard through another wave of pleasure—not enough to get him going, thank Christ—Steve murmurs, “Make me.”

That gets him another put-out huff and a roll of blue eyes. But Billy turns his head back and chases Steve’s lips. Steve expects biting kissing like earlier, when he’d playfully yelled at Billy to stop chewing on him. His heart does a funny, fluttering thing when instead Billy kisses him tenderly. Like the stolen one in the bathroom. This isn’t almost soft, almost loving. This is the real thing. Steve understands Billy’s embarrassment now. It’s not shame that pinks his cheeks but vulnerability. Because Steve won’t play macho games with Billy and sees right through all his posturing and peacocking. Even now in their post-coitus glow, Steve is all smiles and laughter between lippy kisses, kisses back as much as Billy kisses him. He’s never kissed an alpha so much. It means something. Billy means something.

When they part, Steve plops his head back to the pillow and drawls, “So we gonna keep dancing around each other after this? Or are you gonna ask me out on a real date?” 

He only asks because he’s sure Billy can speak now. Maybe not for long, not with his rut still lingering over them like the promise of rain in spring. Heavy with booming thunder in the distance, lightning Steve knows well but cannot see yet. He’s ready for the next front-line winds to blow him over and sweep him up. He’s ready for whatever Billy needs.

Billy glares at him, just an edge of annoyance, and then looks away when he mumbles, “I just… wanted to do it right. For once.”

His voice is raked over coals and low, but Steve hears him all the same.

“Wanted to do it right? What does that mean?” When Billy says nothing, just rolls his lips into a tense line, Steve tries, “What, you mean courting me? You were doing that cuz… What? You thought the old-fashioned way was the way to go with me?”

Someone saying it aloud to Billy probably helps him realize how silly he’s been about all this. Steve will take care to not poke his burned pride too much.

“Not that, like, I don’t appreciate it. It’s… sweet of you. Not what I expected, I guess.”

Billy meets his eyes with reservations still heavy on his lips, in his brow. All that vulnerability makes for a confusing jumble of an expression on Billy’s face. Steve could just kiss him, and so he does.

When they part with a wet sound, Steve sighs in Billy’s face and says, “We can do whatever, big guy, it’s fine. If you wanna court me, then let’s do it, I’m down. If you wanna go on dates and get frisky in the back of movie theaters, I’m game for that, too.” Steve glances up from the frown on Billy’s lips to catch the alpha already watching him. “And that’s not my hormones talking, okay? I like you, you fuckin jerk. So what’s it gonna be?”

Billy chews it over, maybe actually chews on the insides of boyish lips, before mumbling, “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

It takes everything in Steve to not bark in laughter. Billy would take it the wrong way. Words misconstrue. Words lie.

Smiling softly like Billy is being silly about this, Steve tightens his arms around the alpha and draws him close. He kisses the corner of Billy’s mouth, definitely chewed a little, and then presses chaste kisses to his lips over and over. Slow, soft ones that speak for him. Well, those and the earnest desire he lets soak between them. Only Billy would think Steve is having a laugh while hanging off his knot. Steve actually smiles into the last kisses and lets that smile linger, prop its feet up when he meets Billy’s eyes again.

“What do you think?” He dares to wiggle on Billy’s knot, and they both suck a breath through their teeth when he almost slips out. Strained, Steve adds, “I meant what I said. When I told you I hoped you’d win next time. I… wanted you to win practically since we met.”

A shapely eyebrow flicks up on Billy’s brow.

“We beat the shit out of each other like almost three years ago.” Blue eyes glance up to Steve’s hairline. There’s a thin, sliver of a scar from the plate Billy had broken on his head. “You can’t mean that.”

Steve grumbles, “Oh my god,” under his breath and then leans his head close enough to snap his teeth at Billy’s strong jaw. “I said ‘practically.’ We were cool after that. And I’m not blind, you know, just because you were a walking asshole doesn’t mean I didn’t think you were hot. Are hot. Whatever.” Steve’s cheeks pink, now, but at least Billy perks up. Starts to believe him. “I want the whole package, though, so you gotta prove to me you’re not as big as a jerk as you want everyone to think you are. If that makes sense.”

Billy grits his teeth, still in Steve’s face, and hisses, “Why do you think I’m trying to court you?!”

“All right, you have a point.” Steve tips his head up to kiss the angry, dramatic frown on Billy’s lips. He almost expects the alpha to bite him in retaliation. Billy just grumbles through a sigh against his mouth and presses his own kiss back. When they separate Steve sticks his tongue out at him. “Fine, then court away. I don’t mind fumbling along with you… Kinda suits us, don’t you think?”

He offers Billy a smile, the type that usually softens even the most stern alpha scolding him. Not that Billy is scolding him. Anything to cheer the alpha up and reassure him this is real. That Billy can have him.

“Would it make you feel better if I court you back? I’m sure you’d love that.”

He says it even as Billy winces and turns his face away, actually shoves his hands under him to sit up.

“Fuck no, anything but you mooning over me, Harrington, Jesus Christ.”

Steve scrambles to keep Billy close, if only to stop the alpha from moving them around. It’s too late, though, and Billy’s knot is soft enough to pop out. A wild shudder gallops through Steve and draws him weightless back to the bed. He bounces once or twice from how hard he falls. The sheets will need to be changed at a minimum, because he’s definitely leaking all over them. Steve just hopes he doesn’t soak a wet spot into the mattress itself. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Amber eyes cracking open, Steve watches Billy stumble to his feet and then hobble out the bedroom. It’s a graceful sort of hobble. But they did just fuck, and rut or no, Billy is not unaffected. Steve keeps his head up long enough to admire the furious cat scratches all over Billy’s upper back, courtesy of Steve. Smug and satisfied, Steve just lies there with his limbs spread eagle. Water running in the bathroom tickles his ears. Heavy footfalls draw Steve’s eyes back to the open door and then to Billy when he reappears, damp washcloth in hand.

“Awww,” Steve coos as Billy climbs back up, already reaching out with his free hand to shove Steve’s legs apart. “I can’t believe Billy Hargrove is about to mop me up. I bet that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done.”

He can’t help it. It’s too surreal to be here with Billy and acknowledge that they’re moving forward. That they want each other in the same, serious sort of way. So Billy’s glare isn’t as searing as it could be when he shoots narrow eyes down at Steve. While mopping him up.

“It’s a little hazy, but I distinctly remember something about you dripping from me…”

Steve’s face flames hotter than ever before. Billy has him there, and breaks into a grin that sits right at home on his stupid face. Filthy and toothy and wide, so fucking smug. Gritting his own teeth, Steve shoves his flat palm to Billy’s face to mush him away. Not hard enough to injure, just enough to push the chuckling alpha back and out of Steve’s face.

“Uhg fuck off,” Steve groans, already rolling despite his various aches and pains so he can bury his head in a pillow. So his bratty whine is muffled when he says, “It’s against the rules to bring up shit I said with your dick in me. Technical foul, man.”

Billy just follows him, knees sinking into the bed, and he huffs, “Who said anything about playing by your rules?”

The washcloth draws over Steve’s ass with Billy’s free hand prying him open. He knows the moment those wild eyes take in the ruined state of him. He’s still leaking numb and loose. Steve wiggles to coax more out of him. Billy’s sharp inhale is a mark of victory. Pushing the envelope more, Steve hops up on his knees and makes sure to slide them apart so Billy can see everything.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you walk back in here with that monster dick hard. Round two?”

The callused hand holding him open trembles. Steve cants his hips higher when that hand shifts and Billy’s thumb plays with his loose rim.

“You’re… fucking insatiable,” Billy breathes above and behind him. He can’t hope to hide how his shuffling closer rocks the bed. “Fuck Steve…”

Head already turned to the right so he can breathe, Steve tosses, “That’s the idea,” over his shoulder with a cheesy smirk. “Oh by the way, if I pass out, just keep going. It’s kinda hot waking up to someone fucking you, so…”

Steve holds his stare with Billy even as the alpha gives a bewildered shake of his head.

“You’re something else, Harrington.”

“If you’re gonna date me and fuck me, you’re not allowed to call me ‘Harrington’ anymore,” Steve points out with a bratty twist of his lips. “So what’s it gonna be?”

The press of toned pelvis is almost familiar when Billy leans into him and hums, “Think I can handle that. Anything…” A deep sigh as Billy already grinds his teeth, losing his language as the seconds tick by. “Anything… else?”

Only a little embarrassed to say it, Steve looks away and mumbles, “Don’t leave when you’re done.” But the stillness behind him calls his eyes back up. He meets Billy’s surprised expression blink for blink. “Will you stay with me?”

The press of Billy’s erection to his ass is of course obscene and rather out of place for the softness in Steve’s request. That doesn’t stop Billy from curling down to hover above Steve and cage the omega in with his body. Steve’s shoulders flinch with the tickling caresses of sandy curls spilling over Billy’s neck as he bends down, down, down. Only big hands on Steve’s waist steady them. Steve has to take his weight again for Billy to press kisses along the dip of his spine. With them like this, he can’t reach Steve’s neck or mouth, but Steve doesn’t care. The tenderness is what matters. Billy is full of almost, but this is real. He has his moments of realness, and Steve wants to hoard each and every one. 

Steve gives a soft trill when the kisses end on his back with a wet sound. He tries not to tune into the heat rising between them, how the musk of Billy’s rut bleeds through his skin again. So long as Billy stays when it’s all over, doesn’t run for the hills with his tail between his legs, then Steve welcomes the rising tide of his rut again. Bottom lip in his teeth, still waiting for Billy’s answer and dreading Billy will say no, Steve rocks back against the firm prick pressed to his ass. Billy startles on top of him, flinching like he’s in pain, and then a purr tickles Steve’s ear and all down his spine. Makes his heart skip a beat, too.

“Yes,” Billy manages after a few swallows, voice rumbling and soft again as he loses himself. He cuddles as close as he can while still holding Steve down and murmurs to his skin, “I’ll mmm… stay. With you.”

Steve doesn’t have the flexibility to throw his arm behind him to pet Billy’s hair. At least not without elbowing the alpha in the face first. So he has to contend himself with resting his weight on his shoulders in the bed to slide a hand down his waist. He covers one of Billy’s hands, trills softly when Billy just shakes his hand off Steve’s side to thread their fingers together. Their hands sink as one into the bed as Billy already starts a rhythm. Not fucking him yet, Steve’s skin too slippery to have any hopes of sliding in without a helping hand. It’s just to get them going again, getting Steve’s body ready for the pounding he’ll hopefully get to experience again and again.

Billy will give it to him good. Steve knows that, now, after all their hiccups earlier. The tenderness is what matters to him anyway, so Steve gets his weight under him and rocks back when Billy’s hips roll forward. It’s good enough to warm both of them back up. Billy will take care of him no matter what anyway. Steve trusts him and knows Billy will take care of him. Like a good alpha should. Like Steve has always wanted—someone to care about him as much as he cares for them. He’s still waiting, but maybe Billy will be that someone. Fingers tightening in Billy’s, Steve hopes in his big heart Billy will give him that deep, tender loving he’s always wanted. He’s waited this long. The courting won’t last forever, won’t be boring with them already so keen on each other. There’s no harm in enjoying himself now and waiting for that moment to arrive. Steve was born ready to love—nothing to it to wait a little bit more.


End file.
